#too deeply into the subjects outside of the character in question. i have my own very long history with gender identity stuff so any vague

[distortedkilling]

I'm sorry if this is a too deep question out of nowhere, but on your HCs, how do you think the curses (and mahito especially) perceive gender? Mahito uses masculine pronouns in canon, but do you think he identifies with a specific gender? Is agender? Is interested in studying the importance we humans give to it, or thinks it's too stupid and unecessary? Does he comprehend certain prejudices that humans have due to gender ideas? I was also going to include asking about sexuality too, but I think this is already a pretty big ask </3 have a good day S2

Feel free to ask anything you like! I love deep questions.

With curses in general I think the context matters - as in, the type of curse they are. Say a curse exists that was born from the suffering women have endured, I feel like that curse would be more attached to the associated gender because its existence and nature surrounds that gender specifically. Whether that curse has the sentience or care to identify as said gender is another thing to consider. How a curse presents itself could be directly related to that gender its nature is associated with, or it could be a more ambiguous thing that covets aspects of the specific gender despite being something more akin to agender.

I think it comes down to the nature of the curse (why the curse was born to begin with) + the level of sentience of the curse (if it possesses the awareness to care about gender). I think a curse lacking sentience/awareness that identifies as a gender is likely echoing its nature without consideration - like a ghost looping in the place it died. Curses seem to echo "gibberish" about what made them or is related to their birth.

By default I lean towards the 'no' zone of curses perceiving gender to the degree humans do. While gender can be important to the type of curse it is, gender doesn't actually serve a purpose beyond that to them. It's entirely a human construct in terms of identification. Gender serves a reproductive purpose, sure, but how many curses are out there making babies? I ask that because curses, as we know them, lean more into negative and destructive habits than positive and creation based ones.

The context of a curse is what can give them a gender association, but a curse possessing sentience to some degree is what can define their perception on gender - if they even have one.

With Mahito I think he understands humans value gender perception. I don't think he personally cares deeply on the matter himself in terms of identification, but he likes the way the male form feels more-so than the female form. From the angle I write him from, I feel like he's agender but likes to be masculine presenting in body to a degree.

(Side note: I have a running theory way off to the side on the fact he was more masc leaning because human hatred, fear and betrayal in history has been more knowingly caused by men and patriarchies. That's not me saying women haven't done shit things in history, mind you, since Mahito isn't really bound to any one gender doing one. But predominantly in history, regardless of country even, we see male leaders of nations or clans being the ones to decide the fates of others. Betraying their people, enslavement, forcing their people into war, murdering for their own gain or enjoyment, etc. and the greater documentation we have of it regarding men over women.

It made me think that maybe Mahito's development into a masc leaning build was influenced by that. But he also keeps his features feminine leaning because plenty of women in history have also done wrong. Both in the past and present day - whatever the span of energy was that built up enough to make him. Or remake him (again and again).

It's a very tentative thing I'm considering because obviously it Doesn't Sound Great on paper. But Mahito is a little bit of a scholar of sorts, between human psychology, philosophy and (in my opinion) having some manner of interest in history - I can see him kind of playing with this angle because it could feel right to him to embody aspects of what birthed him. Presenting as a feminine man also is its own topic that inspires stupid amounts of hatred in people. Seeing as Mahito likes to make people upset, uncomfortable, etc. I can also see him forming his body based on that.

And while I know a person's art style is liable to change here and there and what not - I find it fun to think that Mahito is just shapeshifting himself a little here and there. Thins his muscles, gets a little leaner now and then, sometimes gets more bulky. Adjusts depending on his wants or if he thinks it's necessary to.

Anyways, these thoughts in here are just tentative ones I'm musing on because I'm trying to factor in the things that birthed him and how they've played a role in humanity. So take this section in parenthesis with a grain of salt for now.)

Back to your inquiry, I think he'd be interested to learn how humans perceive it and what the fuss is all about. The subject of gender in the modern era sparks a lot of negativity between those who are going unheard and those who are obtuse on the matter. I think Mahito understands gender in the form of human reproduction and doesn't inherently think more on it beyond that. If someone corrected him on how their identify he'd take a second to consider their physical form and if it was based on that or based on their mental perception of themselves. Either way, I don't really feel like he'd have a care in going along with how someone identifies as, since gender to him isn't a huge deal. On top of that, his interest in psychology and philosophy surrounding the subject is probably the saving grace here that would have him be interested in going along with it. Because without that, he really wouldn't care and would call someone whatever came to mind. This isn't to say he's a nice curse, btw. Mahito will likely make rude jokes at the expense of someone. Gender, orientation, whatever regarding all that isn't really off limits if he wants to be mean in some way.

I think Mahito has a good understanding on the prejudices that exist. While he has no real attachment to gender as a curse and just decides based on his whim of what he likes at the time, he understands the value humans have with it and the negativity that generates because of the subject. Hell, he was probably born from a decent chunk of the hatred ignorant people have on the subject and the hatred (and fear) people on the other side of the debate (nonbinary, trans, etc) also experience. Mahito sees this issues humans face and thinks they are silly things to squabble about. But hey, they are generating negativity and kind of proving his own ideology so he isn't about to complain either.

Also feel free to ask about sexuality! I'm pausing this answer without that part because I'm not wholly sure what about it you'd like me to address. If you mean how curses or Mahito perceive sexuality? Or if he associates with that-- like similar questions here just flipped for that subject or something else. So rather than presuming I'll let you feel free to ask if you'd like so I can give the inquiry the attention it deserves.

If I didn't answer something enough, feel free to specify and I'll clarify my thoughts further. I don't mind at all.

Mind anyone who gets this far, this is just my own opinion of how I write Mahito. It's fine if you disagree with any part of it. ^^

Thank you very much for asking! It was lovely to answer.

[writingquestionsanswered]

*** This ask has been edited and condensed for clarity and context.

Anonymous asked: I have 3 Asian characters in the main friend group of my story. One is mixed race (Indian and Dominican), one is Chinese (comes from a Cantonese-speaking family), and the last one is a Japanese critique on Tumblr coquettes and the effects of of toxic internet communities on teenage girls. I'm kind of concerned about my South Asian character coming from a low income household, but I'm worried that my Japanese character might embody some traits that fit into stereotypes about Asian girls being rude and unhinged, especially because I explore a lot of complex and taboo subjects with her character. I do have sensitivity readers and was told (by an Asian person) that the character is a a breath of fresh air because she defies a lot of expectations placed on Japanese girls, but is there something else I should do as well? Could this be an offensive portrayal of a Japanese-American girl with a mental illness?

I'm not Japanese-American, so I am not the best person to tell you whether or not this could be an offensive portrayal of a Japanese-American person. What I can tell you is when it comes to writing about race-based and cultural-based experiences (like racism, diaspora, and being raised by immigrant parents), and exploring sensitive topics (like mental illness, addiction, sexuality, and violence) through a racial and/or cultural lens, if you are not yourself of that race or culture, you have to ask yourself whether you're the best person to tell these characters' stories.

We do need more diversity in fiction, and not only does that mean boosting "own voices" writers, it means making an effort to create casts of characters that are reflective of the world around us. However, there's a big difference between including diverse characters in your cast versus presuming to explore the experiences of race, culture, ability, and identity from the outside, having never had that experience yourself.

And yes, as writers, a big part of what we do is write about things we haven't or can't experience. Andy Weir has never been to Mars. Stephenie Meyer has never been a vampire. Leigh Bardugo wasn't born able to manipulate the elements. But, what all of these things have in common is they're things either no one can experience or anyone could experience. They're not something you could only experience only based on your race, culture, ability, or identity.

There are those who deeply feel you should not write about racial, cultural, ability-based, or identity-based experiences you have not yourself experienced, even if you do a lot of research and use sensitivity readers. And there are those who deeply feel all writers should be able to write about anything they want, no matter what. I can't tell you where you should fall in that, but I can offer advice, which is this: if you choose to portray racial, cultural, ability-based, or identity-based experiences that you have not had and could not have because you're not of that race, culture, ability, or identity--even if you do a ton of research and use lots of sensitivity readers, you have to be prepared to be heavily criticized by people who don't feel you had the right to write about these things coming from outside the experience.

And most of all, if your gut instinct is telling you you're doing something potentially offensive and/or harmful, you absolutely are. Listen to your gut and reconsider why you're even writing this in the first place. Far too often, it's coming from a place of fetishism rather than a unique desire to tell a story that has yet to be told.

So, just some things to consider. At the very least, continue to do a ton of research and make sure to work with multiple professional sensitivity readers from the backgrounds you're choosing to portray.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

Learn more about WQA

Visit my Master List of Top Posts

Go to ko-fi.com/wqa to buy me coffee or see my commissions

[wisehearts]

Hey! 3rd message from service mike anon :) you explained it very well re: mike. i understand now... like, he is still getting stimulation physically, he IS having sex, but it's will's pleasure that gets him over the finish line.

i think my main surprise with this is honestly more reflective of me than you or indeed mike lol: it's that I just can't imagine this ever being possible irl. and like you said, it shows my limited understanding of the different emotional states of sex. although perhaps you can admit too that, seeing as this is fanfiction, there might be a little bit of wish fulfilment happening there? i mean, if i found a guy who only wanted to service me in bed, i would be very very lucky indeed. although you did say it's not every time, just an aspect of mike's character, and ofc wish fulfilment isn't a bad thing in fanworks AT ALL, but this has made me realise what i like in my byler fic, so I can answer your question! :) you said this:

Kink has boundaries and pacing irl for a reason, so it's totally valid you feel overstimulated by the intensity in fiction! I'm curious what you deem exciting and absorbing since I do get how it can be hard to get that inbetween, but that inbetween is probably the goal for my own writing!

thanks for your interest! i am enjoying this convo very much.

so i have often felt a bit of an outsider in the spicy byler community, because i'm not a puritan, but i also don't feel i belong in the parts where kink is celebrated because it isn't what i enjoy in the context of byler. i'm also not queer, and many folk here are. i love it here because people are so friendly, but i feel like i'm not outsider enough, almost? its one of the reasons I became a fan of ST, tbh: it had that perfect balance between 'normal society' and 'total nerdism', neither of which i connected to. for me, it's right down the middle. it's a show for the not-jocks, but i'm not a nerd either (aside from being on byler tumblr lmao), so where do I fit in? why do i connect with this show and this pairing so deeply? for me ST is just cosy, full of 80s music i grew up listening to (even though i was born way later), a familiar suburban americana i always aspired to, and adorable characters that feel like theyre holding my hand through all this adventure. i would happily watch a show where the gang just live their lives, like a drama. that might not make sense to anyone but me, but the VIBES, you know? and this is kind of the same with my taste in byler fic.

our discussion has also inspired me to read a bit more about sex roles and kink to understand it, though. i hope you'll bear with me for a long post haha!

i've seen articles that explain kink, but they're often biased for. i've also seen articles slamming it harshly - biased against. i've known people irl who love it, and those who fear it. but rarely anyone who is just 'meh' on the subject. there's not much impartial info to be found ANYWHERE on kink.

i found one article by a female journalist who described attending two orgy experiences, one in a residential suburb full of people who weren't 'conventionally attractive', and the second where only approved guests were allowed, with beauty as one of the criteria. she didnt enjoy either in the end, because she said that a huge part of sex is intimacy, and that wasn't possible when she literally didnt know who she was fucking haha. (she was also british and i think in general, british people are prudish about any sex). but it reminded me of that scene in Always Sunny where they go to an orgy and it's loads of 'ugly' people - the fantasy of Eyes Wide Shut remains a fantasy. Most conventionally beautiful people aren't having orgies, they're having vanilla sex. Why?

First, obviously beauty is subjective, but the concept of conventional beauty regarding kink and outsiderdom is fascinating. i saw one take suggesting why so many people who explore (or, importantly, openly explore) kink, bdsm, bondage etc., appear to be part of other subcultures (alternative lifestyle values, dyed hair, piercings, wearing bondage in public, etc) - that much of it has to do with those pesky conventional beauty standards. one person said that 'people who are considered ugly' by society find other sources of sexual gratification because they are unsuccessful in the regular spaces (e.g. bars, clubs, dating apps, even workplaces), and so kink might be something that draws certain kinds of people who consider themselves outsiders to explore less mainstream sexual practices and find acceptance. Conventionally beautiful people don't need to try anything risque or new to attract a partner, because they are already hot, and that'll do it for most people lol.

Kink isn't always about finding someone, though, is it? I think acceptance is a big part of it, feeling safe in our tastes. And what about byler, exploring aspects of their own character in a safe environment, as you do in your headcanons? I can totally see how this idea of conventional beauty and outsiderness screams byler to so many people! i've yet to read a dnd roleplay smutfic, but many people have mentioned the concept and i think it would be so fun and so them. but, as i said above, I don't relate to the boys because they're nerds, or because I'm queer. so there must be something else in their romance that i find compelling, right?

when i think back on the friends i've known who explore kink AND tell me about it/encourage me to try it, they have all been what society would consider outsiders: they have been exploring alternative lifestyles including polyamory, been part of a subculture with self expression including tattoos, piercings and edgy hairstyles and clothing, or considered themselves to be unattractive. i found this fascinating, because im sure plenty of my vanilla-seeming friends have dabbled in kink behind closed doors as well. but the key here seems to be people who talk about it, show it, or make it a part of their personality and identity (or at worst, push it on me and make me feel boring or vanilla for being happy with 'regular' intimacy and sex).

so i suppose in terms of mike and will, these past experiences of mine bled into my fanfiction preferences. i went to art school - i've been around people who make me feel boring and vanilla, and i've come back home and been around people who say i'm the wackiest person they know simply because i'm an artist. i wouldn't say i have 'kinks', but i dont even really know what that means, because something i find hot and that comes naturally might be alien to someone else. likewise, things like bondage - which to me are very contrived - may come naturally to someone else.

but in the research i did, i found something interesting about how bdsm and bondage is often lauded as being freeing, while it may have other undertones:

at first blush, BDSM is kinky and unconventional... but really all its rules and protocols and skin covered in latex or leather suggests a certain conservativism, they don't want to feel too much or allow pure animal libido to take hold, but rather establish certain boundaries and then paint by numbers

im sure many people who enjoy bdsm would consider this harsh, misguided, or even offensive. i think of the friends who have made me feel like i 'should' be trying it: they were people who were doing it as a form of escapism from deep pain they were in. i think every human has some kind of trauma and we all need escapism, but as someone who really believes in the power of psychotherapy and good old fashioned intimacy and love, i noticed that lots of these friends of mine were trying to avoid dealing with their issues and instead finding a numbness not only in kinky sex, but in telling people that they were having kinky sex. it stopped being about the sex and started being about telling people 'hey, i'm having sex and it's kinky af!'

I realised that these were people who did not make me feel good. i try not to have anything against the overall concept of kink as a result, but as someone who has spent a good portion of my life trying something just because i was scared of the person I would become if i didn't try it - scared of being a bit vanilla, a bit boring, scared of being my true self (which i actually no longer consider boring hehe) - I am always a bit wary of people's reasons for openly having kink as part of their identity, rather than kept as something special just for them and their intimate partner.

so i think i carry these apprehensions when i see byler that includes kink. not all: i love a good scratch detail, of which there are sadly little. but is that even a kink? to me, its a natural part of my sexual expression, but some may consider it a kink.

you asked what I consider absorbing and exciting in spicy byler fic. I think its a reflection of how and why i came to the byler fandom in the first place: to celebrate the show, and to find content that seemed as similar to canon as possible to tide me over until s5. basically, i was completely uninformed on what fandom is. i expected fics to just be attempts to make as close to original source material as possible, so we actually think we are watching the show. ofc for many, things like the kink we are describing, or mike being a service top etc, ARE realistic, but honestly i only expected to see people talking about things that we might actually get to see on screen/in the timeline haha. call me naive!

as an artist and writer, my creative outlets via byler have mainly been about analysing and understanding. i have written some byler smut - mad machine gun heartbeat - and it was very new and experimental to write. people may not think its realistic or absorbing, even though that was my intention, but i don't mind. i also dont think we would actually see that scene in ST, but i think it is a scene that could be possible off screen or in between a time jump, and it's this possibility of it being 'real' in the show that excites and absorbs me. so it's not just about what's in character for mike and will overall, but what is likely for the show itself. i also theorise a lot about lover's lake because I truly do think a scene could happen there. and that's so exciting for me.

this might seem boring to people who get creative with things like AUs or bunwill (i had never encountered anything like this, but he's adorable!), but honestly, the show itself is enough for me! i'm sure that once s5 is here and the story is over, i won't feel the need to engage in fandom in order to enjoy the story anymore. i wrote my smutfic because i needed to get it out of my head, and i wanted to see if mike and will could feel real in a sexual context. i also wanted to see if i could write sex, because i don't think it's easy to do well at all. i have written one other fanfic before, which wasn't smut but did include sex, as did the original novel it was based on. so for me, fanworks and fic i most enjoy are very very canon compliant and artistically-oriented, rather than an expression of personal fantasies or wish fulfillments. i want to momentarily forget that i am not watching the real show lol - the show is what i fell in love with after all, why would i not want more of it?

it's for this reason that I am often bemused by people who project on to mike or will (for example in the bi-gay mike debate), because to me, as a fan, I do not matter a jot. The story exists with or without me, and I simply get to enjoy it. In my time here, since 2022, I've learned that a lot of fandom involves a sort of internalisation of fictional characters, where any attack becomes a personal attack on the fan's own identity. and it's just not the case, because you are not the fictional character. in all honestly, i find it disrespectful to the source material or characters to conflate yourself with them, except if you're drawing from personal experience to enrich your work.

tldr; it's the possibility of a byler scenario being 'real' in the show that excites and absorbs me. so it's not just about what's in character for mike and will overall, but what is likely for the show itself/in the show's timeline, because i want to absorb content that tricks me into thinking i am actually watching the show.

i hope i didnt offend at all with this post! i love your generosity and patience. thank you.

hey! Glad I could make it understandable for you. just saying now I probably won't address everything in the ask to a T below but it's still cool to see you look into things!

I would say no, it's not exactly wish fulfilment. I noticed you said you weren't queer, so not to make an assumption but I believe that may play a part in your surprise that service top and other roles a thing, as you said you think it's not possible irl which is kinda just false 😅 it's quite prevalent in queer spaces, I think heterosexual norms are quite different. it makes sense to me someone can't see it possible for straight men, I can understand it being rare there. there are a LOT of gay/queer men who like being a service top, and even more so lesbians/queer women (a wlw service top loves a pillow princess, if you know that term!). I also began enjoying exploring mike this way before I had the name to give it, I realized the definition made sense and that was the reason I gave it a label, otherwise to me it was just mike wheeler haha! for eg. I don't even have a label for will, I just view him a certain way during sex but there's no "name" I search to label him with (well, unless you count whore!)

Once again I think you're very much like me 😂 "i would happily watch a show where the gang just live their lives, like a drama." is a sentiment I share, that's kind of what a lot of my fics want to be. I call them "missing scenes" but not necessarily only taking place in canon times, they're in future too. and enjoy having things feel like the characters.

"these past experiences of mine bled into my fanfiction preferences" that's a very normal fandom experience! some people write to get a feeling out via a comfort character, read kink/darker topics to navigate their past in a controlled way, or they have fatigue for certain headcanons/interpretations and want the opposite for some time.

I'm sorry your preferences have been judged in the past, you are super valid for enjoying a 'vanilla' sexual life. I encourage you to continue further research to better understand what kink means if it helps since you say you're unsure! They can be niche and they can be broad. kink is a huge part of the queer community's history, and so I was happy to lose the reservations I had about it when I was younger. 

"i was completely uninformed on what fandom is" <- I think again this is where some confusion about things may stem from, coupled with not being queer. It's all quite interconnected basically, the "outsiders" finding a place, and there are just... ways things work, I guess? I honestly salute you for being in this specific fandom right now. you said you've been here since 2022, as someone who's experienced a lot of fandoms before - this one has been the most confusing, hostile, restrictive one I've ever been in. so your confusion is honestly warranted, because a LOT of the way people interact with fic/characters/the show, is so unlike how it's meant to be. the attitudes are bad, the etiquette is bad, the perception of canon characters is bad lmfao, there is a problem with people not treating the fictional characters as fictional characters as you said. you mention wish fulfilment, and that + projection is very prevalent in this fandom, to a point I get fatigued by it. But that's why I just stick to what I currently like/value.

You enjoying fandom in a very canon way is rare, but I'm also pretty similar, at least with creating. I love playing with what the show gives with any headcanon, but I like keeping it "realistic" because that's fun to me. projection happens sure, and I of course explore fantasies too, but that's just the fandom experience! enjoying canon compliance over personal fantasies is just a different normal way to participate in fandom, "why would I not want more of it?" indeed!

it's truly interesting to hear all this from you, because mad machine gun heartbeat was definitely up my alley and the type of fic I'd been missing for a while now, it felt real and that's what I like in the mix of other things I enjoy. I'd been meaning to leave a comment expressing this tbh. You definitely got the reality right, it was a scenario that basically felt canon to me. 

I wouldn't say I'm offended, but I think some of the discussion of kink surprised me, especially the bdsm aspect, as someone who is in the queer community and understands its history and importance. so if you're indeed not queer, I just do encourage some more understanding where possible of where people's behavior can stem from esp being a 'loud and proud' type (but am also aware of the way you've been treated in the past, hope you continue enjoying sex how you like) because it may just be you not connecting with some types of people, as everyone experiences! 

🫶

[bestworstcase]

It's often frustrating to be a fan of (or at least be fascinated by) stories that actively don't fit within a comfortable narrative, but surrounded by people who are determined to enforce that every story must neatly fit into expected tropes and stories that are enforced as being "the correct way to be told" by society.

You see this happen so, so often. The Prequel Star Wars stories and how they threw a hissy fit because Anakin wasn't some cool tragic badass, but instead a complicated mess who ultimately brought a lot of his troubles on himself, and the story around him being a decaying democracy brought on by a combination of it's own corruption and decadence with outside manipulations. Metal Gear Solid 2 and Raiden, who people threw a fit about because he wasn't Solid Snake, but instead a traumatized mess with severe identity issues surrounded by conspiracies built on the manipulation of information that people only began to get years AFTER the game was released, and only after his character was superficially changed to be the badass military power fantasy they expected him to be.

And then there's RWBY, which is literally all about challenging and questioning the concept of a narrative, the narratives we tell ourselves and are told by others who manipulate what we hear and see... And then people throw a fit because the story doesn't fit a typical fantasy story of their choice with the occasional edgy "tough decisions" tropes that fit with certain male character archetypes, completely overlooking the value of the women characters simply because they're taking part in the roles that the fans expect others to have while actively challenging and questioning said roles.

It's aggravating, because for every good blog or thinkpiece that exists, there's dozens upon dozens who literally make no effort to understand ANYTHING except to churn out hundreds of the same tropey mush with a different coat of paint. And they tend to be the dominant voice so only their nonsense is heard while anyone who tries to point it out has to wait for years to be considered, if they're not outright sneeringly dismissed for "thinking too deeply" instead of conforming to society's obsession with easy patterns and status quo.

Ugh.

not to be facetious but your experience is not universal. i can’t speak for the other two but the only reason the rwby hatedom feels impossible to avoid is because the rwby fandom constantly platforms it. just… unfollow or block the section of the fandom that participates in the bidirectional parasitic relationship with the hatedom and the hatedom will magically disappear from your fandom experience ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

like there’s a reason most of my grumblings over here are on the subject of the boring and often baseless popular fanon reading of the story and not, like, the vocal minority of people who think the show is bad because it doesn’t pander to the misogynists in the audience, or whatever. the hatedom’s sole impact on my time in this fandom has been observing with morbid fascination while the key figures in the hatedom-hatedom ruin their mental health by obsessively and self-destructively monitoring the hatedom lol

also like. your ‘sneeringly dismissed for thinking too deeply’ is my court jester snfjcjdn embrace having an ego about people who can’t wrap their brains around the idea of things having meaning

[miodiodavinci]

3, 4, 10, 11, and 29 for the ask game?

these are fun questions!! sorry if i chose too many lol

ohhh thank you ! ! ! ! ! ! ;; o ;; i'll put these under a read more because oh no these are so long askjfdhklf

3. What ideas come from when you were little

well Very Little Me ala elementary school exclusively drew cats and dragons and digimon and neopets and i feel like a lot of that no longer exists in my art outside of very vague plans to one day get back into just making funky technicolor animals for the hell of it

but like in terms of character and story concepts funnily enough, i feel like what i enjoy and really want to achieve now is essentially what Middle School Little Me deeply wanted to draw but adamantly refused themself on principle due to a lot of internalized ideas about what makes "good" and "bad" characters

like little me loved reading cheap mangas and watching cruddy AMVs and reading edgy over-dramatic short stories and looking at people's neon winged scene cat OCs on devianart but also refused to let themself publicly acknowledge liking any of these things, much less allowed themself to draw them, and thus existed in this sort of tense "ohhhh i hate you so much you're So Cool and Look So Fun but that's because you're Bad and Terrible and therefore my stuff is So Much Better™ because it's Boring and not you" phase for years until i got into VOCALOID and realized "wait drawing anime crap fucks" and never looked back ADKJHAKL

like my typical pre-VOCALOID OC would have been Some Guy™ with an Exceptionally Normal Life™ who had a Weird Science Thing™ happen to him that i'd then have to explain for 30 pages before i lost interest and dropped like a rock, but my typical post-VOCALOID OC is literally like

"okay so basically they're a cassette tape who's been animated by this hell facility and is maybe magic but is also maybe just the secondary protagonist projecting herself onto the tape as she's done with the other 7 junk people here but ALSO they're special because they can see alternate timelines and they don't speak but people understand them because they talk through implied second person narration like an RPG protagonist. this is a canon, in-meta aspect of their character. do not steal."

ww that aside, art style-wise at least, i can Definitely Say™ that while a lot of my middle school art style has kind of disappeared over the years, that thing where i draw the hips forward and the legs pointed back a bit with the whole body kind of forming an acute angle that is absolutely something middle school me discovered that i have yet to figure out how to break AKDJHALDKJ

like

dig through my artwork and you will find a million and ten examples of this Exact™ leg placement, ranging from subtle to extreme w

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

(hands clenched and trembling) i have this one character i've been working on for two years now that i have a Very Specific Design In Mind For™ but he's so non-descript that it's Impossible to narrow down What™ that design is so he's looked different every single time i've drawn or tried to design him It's Hell™

rest in fucking pieces, virgil

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

m m m m i know i definitely love drawing big baggy clothes that obscure the form underneath because heehee easy to take shortcuts, and y'all Know™ i like drawing cool boots because i have my own boots to reference 24/7 and thus it's second nature at this point, but i don't know if i have a favorite piece of clothing specifically??

i like scarves, i like hoodies, i like boots, i like oversized jackets, i like gloves, i like front-brimmed hats , , , , ,

still haven't figured out how to make dresses that make sense though and that kills me every day 😭

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what?

i do ! ! ! and more often than not it is one of two massive playlists i have that each contain upwards of 1500 vocalo works because i physically cannot get enough of these funky little vocal synths AKDJHADLKJ

admittedly nowadays it's moved on from being exclusively VOCALOID/UTAU + some nostalgic touhou classics and has been peppered more and more with non-vocal synth works ala syudou's non-vocalo things, su lee, bill wurtz, woodkid, sigur rós, and a small smattering of other artists (though again the playlist is 99.9% vocal synth www)

i really, truly need to get into other artists though because every time someone asks what sort of music i'm into i feel death approach me like a dark horse on an open moor OTL

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

this one i had to think about for. a really long time askdjsdjf

it might be kind of a simple answer, but i'd probably have to say OFF? which is to say that i adore the game with all my heart and love replaying it every couple of years, but it's the kind of game i enjoy just experiencing and reminiscing about rather than pulling it apart and emulating in my own works w

either way, thank you for asking ! ! ! ! a a a a ! ! ! !

[glassedplanets]

ok i have some time so now i can finally fill out that full ask meme

1. Art programs you have but don’t use

paint tool sai and firealpaca -- i used sai for yeeeaaaars and years and years after starting out in photoshop

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

neither, honestly? i go through phases where one thing suddenly becomes dramatically more difficult than anything else but i don’t think that among left/right/forward any one of them is easier than the other two

3. What ideas come from when you were little

uhhhh man. idk. cats? i don’t remember what i drew when i was little tbh

4. Fav character/subject that’s a bitch to draw

i feel like each blorbo goes through a phase where they’re a bitch to draw but for subject... indoor settings are currently my big bitch to draw

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

hmmmm. 90/10 post/keep, i think? i’m interpreting “post” generously to include just sharing w/ friends too

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn’t supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

oh man this is a really broad question but like. i think everything is a subconscious inspiration, you know? my friends’ art, that post i just saw, the way the sunset looked yesterday, anything. but more specifically than that... idk lol, i’m not particularly self-aware, i think, so someone would have to say something to me

7. A medium of art you don’t work in but appreciate

pixels!! pixel art is so cool but idk anything about it, and quilting too

8. What’s an old project idea that you’ve lost interest in

i’m preeeetty good about finishing things so i don’t generally abandon them out of lack of interest

9. What are your file name conventions

answered!

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

shirts generally (t-shirts and button-ups), but i’ve been enjoying pants recently too (jeans, slacks, leggings)

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

literally anything from neil cicierega to video game osts to asmr

12. Easiest part of body to draw

golly! everything has the potential to be a challenge. i feel like the thing i struggle with least often (in the sense that i don’t need to use refs quite as often and/or it needs adjustment less often) is hands, i really enjoy drawing them

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn’t your thing

hmm. i feel like this is an easy one to be Mean about so i’ll just go with naming a style that isn’t my thing, which would be 90% of drawn and quarterly’s catalog, or, the litfic (derogatory) of graphic novels

14. Any favorite motifs

man. idk. do i have Motifs? people touching subtly. late afternoon.

15. *Where* do you draw (don’t drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

home! i don’t like drawing outside of home but i am also a massive homebody in general

16. Something you are good at but don’t really have fun doing

answered!

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

yes......... lmao whatever meal intersects with whenever i happen to draw is what i eat, and i hydrate like a pro

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you’ve broken

probably some when i was a child, but i take good care of my stuff! i’ve never broken anything as a teen/adult, unless it was something inevitable like charcoal breaking

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

nature! bob rossin’ it ALL day, i am fortunate to live in a very beautiful area and i’m very deeply inspired by everything i see as i’m out and about

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

i think hands qualify for this, idk if it’s still popular to hate on hands but i really enjoy drawing them

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

so many... i feel like i don’t follow a lot of artists with a style similar to mine? or maybe i do and i’m just unselfaware about it, idk

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

i’ve got a pinchy ulnar nerve so i have to do nerve glides for that sometimes, and if i’m very stiff then i do wrist stretches

23. Do you use different layer modes

absolutely the fuck i do

24. Do your references include stock images

yes! stock images, stuff i find by googling, pose books, awkward photos of myself, anything

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

i am genuinely not sure anyone’s ever compared my art to anyone or anything...? this is an invitation if anyone reading this has ever been just burning to tell me that my art looks like [thing]

26. What’s a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

i mean... i draw fanart. so usually it’s pretty clearly what it says on the tin.

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

not really, i use my sketch layer as a warmup

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

i’ve never participated in a zine but i would love to someday....... and i tabled at an artist alley one (1) time at a convention that where the AA was more focused on commissioning (traditional) art than selling merch

29. Media you love, but doesn’t inspire you artistically

uhhh wow. lots of stuff, i guess? even with very visual things there’s a lot of stuff i read/watch/play where i’m like, this is beautiful, but it’s not something that i want to be able to do

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

i’m gonna take this as a “plug something shamelessly” question and say this one

[alphaman99]

excellent....well worth the read

Daniel Jupp

What is it that makes a human being, human?

One of my favourite authors, Philip K. Dick, was deeply concerned with this question. He asks and answers it in different ways in all his books, but probably most obviously in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, which in its film version became Blade Runner.

Both remain the best novel and best film treatments of the subject of androids, or artificial intelligence in a form that resembles and is in most practical ways indistinguishable from mankind.

As our own technology advances philosophical questions about machine sentience obviously become more and relevant, but there are also multiple other ways in which the question of what constitutes a human being is a vital one.

It’s the question at the heart of an abortion debate, for instance, and it’s really a question underpinning every discussion of individual liberty. People have rights because they are people. The rights that matter most are human rights.

Philip K. Dick constantly asked the question of his characters, because he was asking it of himself. And through him, I found out that this is one of the most important questions in the history of philosophy, especially of ancient philosophy. Dick became obsessed with the Pre-Socratics because they shared his need to explore what makes us fully human. And this is very, very old thinking we are talking about, some of the oldest ideas in the history of western civilisation.

If we were to talk about narrowing the most important questions ever posed down to very simple things, to what their core essence is, we might say that they consist of ‘what am I?’ And ‘what is all this?’. What is a human, and what is the world? All of our real thought begins with these questions, which include not just our philosophy but also our art, our culture, our literature and yes, our religion, our mythology and even our science too.

I think the handprints or animal paintings on a cave that date from long before the Ancient Greeks are asking these same questions. I think the oldest surviving figurines, the Venus figures which are odd, bloated, sometimes many breasted and sometimes headless depictions of the female form (the oldest thus far discovered, the Venus of Hohle Fels, is at least 35,000 years old) are asking these two questions.

These are questions that prompt the entire history of human creativity. Whatever we possess that we created, whatever we have which is most artistic, most sacred and most meaningful outside ourselves and other living beings, is created from the point at which our species started asking these questions.

What defines us as different to another animal, the full range of our sentience, self awareness and emotion, our cognition and our capacity for reason, was born with these questions.

Asking ‘what is a human being?’ is itself one of the things that makes us human. Unless we try to understand ourselves,as individuals and as a species, we are moving through the world propelled only by instinct and animal reaction.

These questions don’t become significant again just because of technological advance. They are always significant, but we rediscover them most urgently at times of societal collapse. Societal collapse presents us with those moments where all of the long and careful answers we have built, the ones which frame our rules, our laws, our morality, are falling down around our ears.

And in these times, these circumstances, we again encounter creatures that share our appearance but share none of our inner life, creatures that wear human form but have no humanity about them.

We are wise to fear the artificial intelligence that has no limits, no conscience, no humanity. We are wiser still to fear the biological human being who has none of these things, either. And it seems to me that we are encountering and producing more and more of the latter. Whether that’s a feral youth stabbing another child to death, a Muslim terrorist committing atrocities, or an ideologically warped leftist supporting those terrorists, we are seeing more and more humans with less and less humanity.

Often, the ones who proclaim their humanity the loudest, possess the least of it.

The closest Philip K. DIck came to an answer to the question of what is a human being is that a human being has humanity. Compassion, to give it another name. And compassion not as a vain signal of virtue, and not as a thing which claims to love everyone at a remove, whilst neglecting those at home. The compassion that cannot comprehend the actions of a terrorist, and would never seek to excuse them.

We have seen compassion itself abused into its opposite. We have seen it turned into a cruelty towards the real innocents, and the real victims. In the UK we once had a man called Long Longford. Longford spent a large portion of his life arguing that the treatment and imprisonment of Myra Hindley was inhumane. He defended her. He protected her. He championed her.

Hindley, of course, was a serial killer who had tortured children to death. Both Longford and Hindley lacked real humanity, real compassion. To support evil is to commit evil. There is of course a difference between an evil action and an evil reaction, but it is a difference of degree, not of kind. Excess of alleged compassion for the guilty and the inhumane is a denial of compassion to the innocent and the human.

For me the thing that makes us human is the capacity to think and feel in ways that are different, ways that are more, than those available to an animal or a machine. We need the capacity to reason, as well as the capacity to love. Both working together prevent us from being either a Hindley or a Longford. Correct reasoning would have told Longford that the victims of Hindley were worth more than she was, as well as a correct emotional response.

In Blade Runner the androids, the replicants, insist on their existence as thinking, living beings, equal to or superior to mankind. In a way they are saying ‘we are human’, even as they despise humanity. Their surface quest is to find a way to extend their lives beyond the very short limit set by their creators. This is the same quest Gilgamesh went on in one of the earliest surviving stories we have. Their deeper quest is to understand their own nature. And this is a human quest. Their surface aim leads them to kill people and behave inhumanely. But ultimately the message is that in dying they find not just the limit of their existence, but the moral limits that make them actually human. Roy Batty in his last moments can kill or save Rick Deckard. Both have been trying to kill each other for the entire film. Batty’s last action is to choose not to kill Deckard.

And it is at this point that Batty delivers the incredible speech improvised by Rutger Hauer. The speech that confirms this was a living being with sentience and worth. But that speech is only unlocked, only made meaningful, moving and true, by behaviour, by Batty having just chosen not to kill, showing human reason, judgement, discernment and compassion. He proves with an action what he is then allowed to confirm with a speech. He reflects on the life of Deckard, and it’s worth, before he is allowed to express the worth of his own existence. In other words the poetry and reflection on his own life is only possible because the action has already made him human.

Humanity, then, is defined both by behaviour and limitation, by choosing not to do certain things, inhumane things. We must have the intellectual capacity to make that choice correctly, and the emotional capacity to want to make that choice correctly. We must be able to discern between innocence and guilt, and pick the action that makes us more, not the one that makes us less, human ourselves.

If Batty earns humanity by choosing not to kill, by understanding Deckard’s life, then conversely the kind of savagery displayed by Hamas is surely also a behaviour, a choice, that lessens their humanity, that removes their right to be considered human. Just as the actions of Myra Hindley made her less than human. You cannot take these actions and make these choices and expect the same treatment that belongs to an innocent. You have already denied that. You have already shown that you are inhuman.

To be human means to judge and evaluate, ourselves first and foremost, but others too. Psychopaths and terrorists of course also claim that they have the right to judge others, and on some religious or ideological excuse determine life and death. But the existence of false judgement that leads to barbarity does not invalidate the need for correct judgement that leads to humanity. It makes it all the more urgent.

There are objectively things you cannot do and continue to call yourself human, or be treated as human by others. The deliberate and personal and sustained act of terrorism that sees you raping women, tearing screaming children away from murdered parents, beheading babies, surely signals that it is now more humane to kill you than to let you live and do these things again. Real human life, life that still has the capacity to think and feel in ways that are more than raw brutal savagery, matters more.

What amazes and depresses me most is not just the existence of inhuman monsters like Hamas. What is almost as urgent a problem is the apparent death of a capacity to think and feel with discernment, reason and compassion amongst others. The person who can see these events and side with the terrorists. And do so whilst perhaps talking about humanity and compassion, as BLM did, or oppression, as Celtic fans did, as if any oppression we can imagine is worse than the kind that beheads babies, as if any compassion can exist whilst making excuses for beheading babies. But also the people who lack the logic and discernment, the thinking and feeling capacity, to distinguish between this and media driven hysteria on a succession of other topics, who think they are being particularly discerning and clever by displaying their own lack of humanity towards genuinely innocent victims.

We must ask what is human to be human. And we must admit that the purely savage and those who support them don’t fit the definition if the definition is to make any moral sense at all. We must demand that they be more than they are, or else we become less than human too.

Patricia Young

Excellent Daniel!!!

[ruanbaijie]

just a few thoughts after recent events bc I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking from both sides given how touchy the topic is

the wounds left from wwii are still very raw in this part of the world that goes without saying, and no amount of elaboration I can do here will be able to summarise the pain and feelings of injustice and anger that still linger till today 

yes he did wrong. he shouldn’t have done those even if back then he wasn’t as famous. yasukuni is infamous for being the representation of japan’s refusal to admit its past and it really baffles me why he would agree to go there (apparently he was invited for a wedding?) let alone take pictures there

but yes antis also dug it up on purpose to smear him (c-ent is brutal I think most of us who’ve been around in the cdrama/ dangai circles are pretty aware of that by now)

the two can coexist and acknowledging the latter DOES NOT equate to belittling the consequences of wwii NOR does it equate to being an imperialist

does he deserve to be cancelled? how does one judge? yes wwii rhetoric has been and still is manipulated till today in politics esp in the countries concerned, yes nationalism plays a very big part. but yes he did also knowingly do things that still remind people of an especially painful period. so how does one balance and judge between the knowing manipulation of painful memories to serve political agendas and the very effect of the painful memories itself?

yes it is strange and somewhat unsettling to see ardent fans voicing their support for him esp since the dust from wu yifan has barely settled bc it’s so easy for an outsider to see this as blind support

but remember the context of c-ent and antis and how far they can go to tear celebrities they dislike down

and that blindly labelling someone as white just because they seem to continue supporting him while “ignoring” or “making light of” the historical baggage is just being prejudiced

yes reverse racism does not exist but that doesn’t give anyone a free pass for being prejudiced and painting every single member of a certain community with the same brush

white people have feelings too and I’ve met a lot of white people who are careful about this unfamiliar culture they may perhaps be engaging with for the first time, who ask questions and do their research to make sure that they don’t unknowingly belittle or misconstrue anything, which I very deeply respect

I know it’s easy to hate and blame a boogeyman esp when racism and the sidelining of minority races still continues to be prevalent today

but please realise the context that this is happening in before piling on

and before adding oil to the fire of ad hominem attacks

tl;dr:

his actions were disgusting, but also disgusting is how people can actually hate a successful person so much that they would dig so deep just to find ammunition to shoot him down with and tear him down with mob justice

and if you disagree with my point of view or anyone’s point of view

please argue against the subject of the argument

instead of attacking the person themselves (or any other communities, whether said person belongs to them or not) and sending death threats

it really does not reflect well on your own character

if what I’ve said doesn’t sit well with you, please go ahead and unfollow and block me

and if you really want to pull the same trick and still want to attack me as a person instead, here’s your homework done for you: I am chinese, I am diaspora, I live in asia, I know this culture (maybe not as deeply as I should, but well enough), I know my history, I wrote my goddamn final year university thesis on the lingering sentiments of wwii in the region

[beardrabbles]

invitation.

characters: GN!reader, claude, mentions of GN!byleth

warnings: none

word count: 2,814

notes: posted this on ao3 ages ago and totally forgot to post it here too :’) got into the fandom late, like alwaaaays! but i have an enormous claude / golden deer bias and wanted to write some fluff with him.

You forgot sometimes that this peaceful spot tucked between the trees wasn’t yours alone. You shared it with another from time to time, but it had been so long since the last time you both stepped foot in the clearing that it startled you to hear footfalls crunching at the grass behind you. Pushing yourself up halfway, eyes blinking blearily, you spotted the richly dressed prince with his hands planted on his hips.

“Napping without me?” Claude clicked his tongue, and you quickly replied with a roll of your eyes.

“I can’t nap here on my own?” You fell back again, letting the soft grass cushion you. A soft, content sigh escaped through your nose as the sweetest of breezes barely brushed your skin. It smelled of flowers and damp leaves, dense soil and a distant storm. There was no zing of hot iron or blood, and it was a relief.

“I thought it was our thing.  .  .”

You felt him sit beside you, taking up his usual position to your left. The tiniest flutter tickled the inside of your ribs, his nearness nearly making your head spin. “Before I came along, it was just your thing, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but I like it better this way.” Claude leaned back on his hands, eyes up towards the greying sky. It had taken fighting a war to bring back their usual glimmer, but it was there in full. Bright, hopeful, determined. Laying there, gazing up at the unsuspecting prince, it was almost as if you were looking at the man from five years ago — the cunning, clever and sometimes troublesome man that you had fallen head-over-heels for and had continued to painfully pine for.

“Me too.” You dared to smile, his gaze shifting to you. Adoring him hurt, but no amount of hurt would have you appreciating his presence any less.

Claude returned the smile, and the gesture sent your heart slamming against your chest. But just as quickly as it came, the smile faded. “I spoke to Byleth.”

You sat up in an instant, concern etched into your face. You were aware that he had gone to meet them, but he had failed to tell you why. You equally failed to push the subject, as it wasn’t your place to disrespect a man in his position. Curious as you might have been, you assumed it was best not to ask and only hope that he trusted you enough to confide in you later. Seemed you were right, though you acknowledged to yourself that it was a rare thing.

“How did it go?”

“They’re disappointed I won’t be here for the coronation. I can’t blame them. After everything we’ve been through together, I should be here for them. I want to hope they understands. They always have.” He exhaled sharply. “But, hey, I got to see them smile again! I think as long as they’re here, Fódlan will be in good hands. If they keeps smiling, if they keep breaking down the walls that were built up, I can go home and do my part there. I trust them.”

You shifted, feeling uncomfortable in your envy.

“So they’re not coming with you to Almyra?” You wondered. Claude shook his head.

“No, and I didn’t want to ask. Fódlan needs to be taken care of. It needs a parent that will hold its hand and lead it in the right direction. It’s gonna stumble around like an infant walking for the first time, but that’s why they’re the best person to lead. They’ll know what to say and do to help this little baby along.”

You screwed up your face and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You really like talking about babies.” You pointed out. Claude’s cheeks and the tips of his ears darkened a fraction, but he dismissed it with a hearty chuckle.

“I guess I do. I wonder why that is.” He trailed off, voice soft but nowhere near as confused as his words would have lead you to believe. You had long ago resigned yourself to never truly understanding him, so you shrugged. Trying to pick through his mind was like attempting a hedge maze without a map.

“Does that mean you’re going to be heading back soon?”

“I can’t stay for long. There’s so much I need to do if I’m going to see things through, but there’s something important I need to do here before I can go home.” There was sharpness to his eyes that you recognized and deeply adored. He was planning something, and you felt your curiosity rise again.

“What is it? Can I help?” You were always so quick to offer him aid. Usually, he gently denied it, stating time and time again that most of his schemes were for his mind alone. Things often worked out for the better that way. The fewer people that knew, the less chance they could commandeer the plan or ruin it. Yet you still asked just in case he needed you.

“Maybe. Before that, can I ask you something?”

You frowned. “Of course. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“You’ve been saying that since we met. Is it really true?” Claude smirked and raised a single brow, only for you to shove him harmlessly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You eyed him for a moment, worry mounting. “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

The prince shook his head, as if he were getting off track. “No. I wanted to know where you plan to go. What are your plans for the future?”

“Oh! Oh.” You frowned when the sudden realization that you had no plans slammed into you. “I don’t.  .  . know. I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been so busy supporting everyone else, doing what I can for them, that I don’t know what to do with myself. Everyone’s grown up. They’re all doing their own thing, starting their own lives. No one needs me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Claude’s voice was firm in your ear, and his expression was set to match. You smiled meekly.

“I grew up with all of you, but it felt like my purpose was to help you all find yours. Not that I really think I’m capable of being that helpful, but I never took the time to think about myself. I was too worried about you all reaching your dreams that I didn’t have one. I don’t have one.” You amended the last part quickly because it was blatantly clear to you that you had no direction to go in.

“There has to be something you want.” Claude pushed. You laughed.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I want what you want. I want you to succeed.” You opened your mouth again, but were quick to clamp them shut when another thought arose. I want to be with you.

It was lovely to imagine, but you had lived with the fact that any future with him was left solely to your imagination. You met him as an heir, and you knew him now as a prince. The differences in your status was vast and hard to ignore. Claude had his mind set on making those differences unimportant, but you doubted that he could find room in his heart for you. He had a country to take care of and love, not to mention you two had been friends since the start of your time at the academy. Too much time had passed since then, and while your feelings had grown deeper and more troublesome, you were sure he had none to begin with. No, as students, he had been too preoccupied with tormenting you. Teasing, poking, taking up your time with nonsense and rarely giving you a moment to yourself.

Despite him being a brat at times, you loved him. And even if he didn’t reciprocate, you were grateful to have known him at all.

“So you’re not bound to Fódlan?” His voice shook you from your thoughts.

“What?”

“Do you have any obligations here in Fódlan?” His gaze was so intently set on you that it made you squirm, the feeling ten times worse since coming out of your own head.

“No, not that I can think of.” You couldn’t recall making any promises.

“Right, so you could leave.” Claude hummed thoughtfully and got to his feet. Once upright, he dusted the grass from his clothes and offered you a hand. Confused, you took it and let him pull you into standing.

“I guess I could, but where would I even go? I don’t know anyone outside of Fódlan.” You felt something subtle was being said, you couldn’t catch on. Some days, you could. You had learned him just as he had learned you, but he was always several steps ahead. You could read him, but only the pages he allowed you to see. In this case, the pages were written on, but only in bits and pieces.

Claude gave you a pointed stare and a gentle, encouraging squeeze to your hand. When you failed to understand, he raised both eyebrows and pointed to himself. No words were needed. His gestures and odd line of questioning were like a clarifying slap to the face. You reeled, giving him a wide-eyed stare while sputtering idiotically.

“Wh——”

“That took you while. I was starting to worry I’d have to spell it out for you.” Claude put on a convincing pout. “Unless this is your weird way of telling me you don’t want to come with me.”

“No!” You leaped too soon, your eagerness prompting a smirk on the prince’s face. You fell silent again, worried that saying anything more might reveal all of what you had been trying to hide for over five years. “I’m not saying that.”

“What are you saying?” He purred cunningly, hand still holding tightly to yours. You didn’t resist when he to eased you closer, your heart screaming in your chest. Cheeks red and breaths shallow, you could hardly think. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I’m still napping, and this is just another stupid dream.

You swallowed hard and peered up at him. “I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Vague.”

“Ah-ah,” chided the cheeky man, “you’ll have to address me as Prince Vague now.”

You scoffed and gave him another shove. When your hand pressed to his shoulder, he trapped it there with his own. Even closer now, Claude lowered his head until your noses nearly touched. You sucked in a breath and found yourself unable to move away, attention trapped in his bright, beautiful eyes.

“You want to know what I’m asking you?” He lowered his voice, tone growing tender and warm. You nodded. “I’m asking if you’ll come home with me. I want you to meet my parents and my people, and I want them to meet you. I want them to love you as much as——”

He choked for a moment, a rare flicker of pure emotion startling him.

“As much as what?” You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but he was making it incredibly difficult not to.

Claude calmed himself with a shaky breath and tilted his chin down, lips barely ghosting the curve of your cheek. His eyes fluttered half closed, while a single lock of his dark hair tickled at your cheek. When you didn’t shy away, he spoke again in honeyed tones. “I want them to love you as much as I do.”

“You can’t mean that.” Your entire being felt numb with glee, but you couldn’t process his confession without a little doubt. He met your doubt with a chuckle, so you persisted. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you felt the compulsion to reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. You had done so many times before, letting the gentle touches calm him during his bad days, but there was new meaning behind it now. There was an honest love behind it as your dragged your fingers through the strands, pushing them back and away from his darling face.

“There were so many others.  .  .” So many people wanted his attention, his affection. You were but one in a thousand that longed for him.

“I didn’t care. I dreamed of many futures, and all of the best ones had you standing there beside me.” He muttered into you, the softest of kisses resting just under your eye.

“We argued so much.” You shuddered, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“You kept me grounded. How can anyone expect to be a decent ruler if they’re always agreed with?” He countered. You huffed and tried to think of another argument.

“You used to tease me all the time.” You muttered.

“I’ll admit that was dumb of me, but it felt like the only way to get your attention.” His lips found the tip of your nose, and you couldn’t contain a snicker. “You looked so cute when you were embarrassed, especially when you wrinkled your nose. I couldn’t help it.”

“Why do I feel like you still can’t help it?” You tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and let your fingers follow the path of his facial hair. He was putty in your hands, cheek pressing to your hand.

“It’s part of my charm.” Claude flashed his usual smile, then took a step back. The lack of closeness left you feeling a little colder, but the distance let you appreciate him fully. Tall, handsome, commanding. You were exceedingly proud of him, and you felt yourself falling for him all over again. But before you could think to speak, he started again. “You don’t have to answer me right away. I know this a lot to ask of you, so I want to give you the time you need. I’m leaving in two days. Meet me at the——”

You didn’t allow him to finish. Your heart was too full and on the verge of bursting, and it seemed silly to you that he didn’t know what your answer would be when he was so skilled at predicting you. Rather than let him wonder, you removed your hands from his and took his face between them. You gathered your courage, mustered with his help, and pulled him down for a soft but silencing kiss.

Claude wasn’t often rendered speechless, but he supposed he didn’t mind being put in his place if it meant your lips fitting against his as perfectly as they did. Unfortunately for him and the heat radiating throughout him, you didn’t let the kiss last long. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and crush you against his chest like he’d long to for years, but you parted from him too soon for his liking.

“Where are you going?” He took chase, but you placed your hand over his mouth. Claude stilled and arched a brow.

“I’ve had my answer for years, Claude. I’m with you in every possible way. But if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?” You uncovered his mouth, but his silence told you more than words would. “How long have you, uh.  .  .”

“Cared for you? Admired you? Wanted to kiss you the way you just kissed me?” Every question he posed in response to yours made your heart thud and your cheeks burn. “A long, long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was never given the chance.” He answered so surely that you wondered if he had those words prepared. You couldn’t pester him about it — too many things had gone horribly wrong during your time at the academy, and it didn’t make sense to plant seeds in dead soil. There would have been no guarantee that it would bloom and flourish, but with the land starting a slow recovery, you hoped that what you two started here would become lusher and more far-reaching than any forest in Fódlan.

“It’s alright.” You giggled giddily and granted him another kiss, this one to the corner of his lips. “We were given our chance, and you took it.”

“Does that mean you’re going home with me?” He asked.

“I told you——”

“I want to hear you say the words.” Claude softly pleaded. Weak for his doe eyes, you melted in his arms and relented.

“I’m going home with you, Claude. I want to meet your parents, and I want to get to know your people. And for as long as I’m there, for as long as you’ll have me, I want to get to know you better.”

A soft sigh tinged with relief escaped the man as his head came to rest on your shoulder. His grasp on you tightened, and you felt his heart beat against your chest.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and embraced him. “Don’t thank me. Just take me home.  .  .”

[astrolovecosmos]

Neptune: Deep Dive

Pink petals

fallen onto

night shaded

waters.

Nothing is ever as it seems.

Wood turned to metal.

Reality turned to dreams.

-Natasha Reeves 

The planet Neptune I think is most famous for two things - illusions and dreamy or ethereal associations. A lot of negativity is also commonly associated such as addiction, insanity, guilt, sorrow, denial, and doubt. This planet is complex and just like all the other planets has a huge array of associations. What prompted me to do a deep dive in Neptune? Well for one I’ve been going through the transit of Neptune in Pisces crossing over my IC which has been powerful and I am at the end of my progressed Moon in the 12th House. Also in my own chart I’ve been paying more attention to my natal Neptune placements... which are a lot more prominent and worthy of my attention than I’ve understood and noticed in the past. Honestly I spend a lot more time analyzing others’ charts vs. my own, and I really should have looked more closely at some of my own aspects. I have had a LOT of experience with Pisces influences throughout my life, intense ones. I want to make it clear that Pisces DOES NOT = Neptune. I’ve always wanted to write a whole essay about my experience as a Pisces friend, lover, family member, enemy, etc. An outsiders opinion but that isn’t this. This is a disclaimer because this is going to be both theory and my own experiences. This is a deep dive. 

The Sea’s Love and Wrath 

Neptune in a lot of mainstream media is described as gentle but this planet can be unpredictable and harsh, with erratic energy that could rival Uranus. Neptune can be about tolerance and kindness, seeing past the ego and material. Neptune can embody or promote unconditional love and forgiveness. Because Neptune can be about dissolving and merging this planet allows us to see ourselves in others, maybe even in everyone allowing for compassion, empathy, and the ability to love very freely and openly. But the illusion and deception of Neptune is its shadow. 

Romanticizing and idealizing can be one of Neptune’s downfalls. Many times this is described as putting other’s on a pedestal but this can be applied to any area of life from work to places to ideals. From this those with strong Neptune aspects or prominent placements can find that disappointment is a frequent visitor. Neptune square, opposite, or conjunct Venus can quickly fall for others, trust others, and gravitates towards those they want to help or who have a strong personality they can meld with. Neptune opposite or square Mercury may face the frustration and disappointment of frequently being misunderstood or finding that they easily misread others or trust their words. After feeling tricked there can be wrath to these oceanic bodies. 

Where will their vengeance or anger land? It isn’t fair if they idolize you to get mad at you... sometimes their anger is self-loathing and self-destructive, other times they take you down with them. But the lesson is that Neptune can be as soft and as dangerous as the sea. 

Enlightenment and Madness

Coming down from the high, was getting lost in Neptune’s blue. Dreams and visions dancing in the back of my mind, when reality is so hard to chew. Sensation used to distract and pieces of stories stitched together to where nothing is fact.- Natasha Reeves 

There are many influences that can grant us wisdom or enlightenment throughout astrology, but I don’t see too many writings or posts about Neptune and its connection to enlightenment, nirvana, or eurekas and on the flipside also insanity and denial. Neptune can pull away the fog to give us clarity - especially when looking at the whole of things, the big picture. Neptune can famously also be the fog. 

The transit of Neptune crossing over my IC/4th House brought a lot of light to my childhood and how I was raised. However my IC is in Pisces, while Pisces isn’t the same as the planet, and many astrologers believe Neptune is not the ruling planet of Pisces - it is a sign known for illusions, confusion, and vagueness much like Neptune. I came from a place of a lot of secretiveness and vagueness, but when the “planet of illusions” crossed over I found myself accepting the instability and moments I felt lost or clueless in my life as well as looking back with remembering and understanding. 

Neptune can represent the part of us that is hard to grasp and understand, it also faces us with the idea that it is okay to have unanswered questions, to not have closure, that many times we have to create that closure or solidity ourselves. Neptune much like Jupiter is a matter of faith whether in ourselves or a higher power. 

It should be noted Neptune doesn’t always mean outside sources. Neptune is an introverted, intimate actor. It can represent how we lie to ourselves, trick ourselves, or how we push responsibility off of ourselves. Neptune also allows us to see, understand, more importantly feel what we easily ignore or can’t see. 

Life’s Extremes - Our Extremes 

“Neptune moves between the greatest extremes: from the highest spiritual awareness through imagination, fantasy, and illusion, to the depths of deceptions and disillusionment. The planet of mysticism, glamour, and enchantment, Neptune exerts a hypotonic fascination.” - Judy Hall. 

When many think of extremes they probably think Pluto before Neptune. The blue sphere isn’t going to take away the icy orb’s reputation - Pluto holds tightly in terms of extremes, but Neptune is far from a level-headed, consistent influence. Let’s touch on fantasy and illusion - two things that tends to warn of foolishness or impracticality, but fantasy is part of everyone’s life, no matter how pragmatic or mature an individual claims to be. From coping to manifesting to understanding to enjoying, fantasy is a natural human thing. Think of how often you daydream in an hour, how many books, movies, and games you indulge in, how often you find yourself being tempted by gossip, and how often you find yourself painting a picture of another in your head - negative or positive. 

Neptune symbolizes the abstract, importance, and rawness of our fantasies. Individuals with prominent Neptune aspects can find themselves easily tapping into their imagination, falling into escapism frequently, or have a great use for their wild ideas. If you think of the subject of fantasies or illusion as an extreme - it makes sense. You aren’t going to get an interesting story without the gods and monsters. Our sleeping dreams often are filled with strangeness or strong emotions. Clarity to madness, hopeless romantic highs to deeply wounded sorrows, and dissolving/surrendering to becoming whole/complete are common extremes this planet centers around. 

I have Mercury Square Neptune which tends to make one doubtful of their own opinions and intellect, can increase misunderstandings, and make communication difficult for the individual. Mercury Square Neptune can make someone highly persuasive and deceptive but it can also make one easily confused, tricked, and manipulated by others. Rationality and intuition can conflict. One experience I have with this aspect is usually swinging from extremes to being very withdrawn and quiet to interrupting others, chatting away. I’ve been described by those in my life as always saying something they didn’t expect - few words but impactful or strange ones. This is an example of the more everyday way Neptune can present itself.

“Neptune-attuned people possess glamour in the old sense of the word: the ability to bewitch. They are also impossible to categorize or pin down, demonstrating the planet’s elusive quality. Lacking strong boundaries, Neptune-attuned people are susceptible to outside influences.” - Judy Hall. It is from these lack of boundaries and fluidness we see Neptune’s extremeness. Neptune aspects can have us take on the traits of others and there is intensity in that. Let’s say we are talking about a Neptune to Mercury aspect, here may be someone who is easily energized or put down by the mood of another. Neptune to Mars can create a volatile person who fights, guards, and pursues based on their inner circle. 

Alice: Imagination and Dreams 

Personally I tend to associate Alice in Wonderland with Gemini themes. But I’ve seen her used as a metaphor for many placements and influences, such as Scorpio and Pluto. Neptune’s lostness certainly relates to the character and story. Neptune can be the planet of dreams. Challenging aspects to Saturn indicates someone who struggles to get in touch with reality while easy aspects to Saturn indicates someone who can marry big dreams or imagination to practicality. 

Neptune to Moon aspects can indicate powerful dreaming - almost intuitive or helpful in processing stress or trauma. So does Neptune in the 12th, 4th, 8th, and possibly 9th. Neptune in the 2nd can mean imagination or even dreams themselves act as a resource, maybe this is through inspiration or increasing one’s belief or confidence. Neptune in the 3rd may find themselves always remembering their dreams and keeping a journal. Neptune in the 5th blessed with all of the fun dreams of flying or dreaming of a favorite fictional character. Neptune in the 6th or 10th may find strikes of inspiration, knowledge, problem solving, or important foresight in their sleep. Neptune in the 11th may find comfort or realize important information about self and/or society in their dreams. 

Neptune is a newer planet, many times called the visionary, healer, or spiritual link or messenger. Traditional astrologers can approach the planet with a lot of skepticism. Its exaltation is in creative Leo, detriment in practical Virgo, and fall in usually praised as “visionary” Aquarius. Neptune is still new enough to be a hot topic of debate. You will find many astrologers don’t even agree on the planet’s exaltation, fall, and detriment. Leo is considered one of the most creative sign and on the topic of imagination and dreams Neptune can feel amazing in this sign. It feels confident and shinning in its ideas, fantasies, and magic. Elusive and ever-changing Neptune doesn’t feel comfortable in stable and structured Virgo. But Aquarius is an unexpected challenge for Neptune. Aquarius is about collective action - unity that Neptune also is familiar with. But Aquarius is a cold sign and despite its unconventional side can be highly practical and may dislike unrealistic ideas or approaches. Saturn is Aquarius’s co-ruler after all. Neptune wants oneness as in intimacy, not oneness in action or rebellion like Aquarius. Neptune is the magical moonlit spring to heal all your wounds, especially the emotional and spiritual kind. Aquarius is the soul forge in Asgard from Thor: The Dark World or the hypospray in Star Trek. Aquarius is modern medicine most of the time and when Neptune is dressed in Aquarius’s colors at its best it is advanced medicine we don’t understand yet but are working towards. Neptune in Aquarius can be a genius, but it is about ambitious realism to help others, Neptune at its heart is about helping the individual on the most personal level. Aquarius is random strikes of lightning coming from an active mind while Neptune flows from one spot to another, always connected and coming from an original primal, emotional place. Aquarius is the future, Neptune is outside of time. Aquarius is intellect and Neptune emotions and intuition. Aquarius is rebellion, riot, revolution, Neptune is peace or death and rebirth - Aquarius is the noise and Neptune the silence. 

Some believe Neptune’s fall is in Capricorn, which the struggles exist with Capricorn’s strictness and clinging to reality and control. Neptune in Leo is Alice looking regal like a queen or warrior going to fight the jabberwock, Neptune in Virgo can get dark, feeling uncomfortable and maybe in pain, but still important and empowering. Alice in Aquarius or Capricorn is likely a totally new story, adult Alice putting away the tea parties and white rabbits for a lab coat or pantsuit. 

What about Healing and the Spiritual? 

Let’s get to what Neptune may be most known for. That otherworldly connection, the power of love, transcendence. Neptune is dramatic and it is soothing. Neptune embraces all aspects of the human experience so we can focus more on the soul. Neptune is all about healing and how healing can come in a million ways. It can be fast and hard or slow and revealing. It is painful and messy, it goes in cycles, loops, falls and rises. 

Neptune whether the aspects are easy or challenging, whether in a house focused on the self or others, it gives everyone ways to heal and to connect. As an outer planet it gives a lot of insight into generations but in the unique placement of one’s chart it touches us with humanity. 

Pretty speeches, enchanting metaphors, crazy nights, and charming lovers lead us to our doom and a raw poem, crying ourselves to sleep, old medicine, late night graveyard walks, and maybe a rebound help us pick up the pieces. Neptune many times shows us that the unexpected is what tears us down and what lifts us back up. It teaches us nothing is inherently bad like substances, manipulation, honesty, authority, it is how it is used. Neptune shows us that you are the hero to some and the villain to others. 

Regret, shame, guilt, feeling trapped, isolation, addiction, grief, and sorrow are closely linked to Neptune. I believe many times this is due to the healing process or spiritual associations of the planet. These emotions are heavy and life-changing but they are emotions that many times need to be faced with a lot of bravery and work. They are feelings that also help us come to realizations. Neptune is associated with rebirth and if you examine emotions like regret or shame, sometimes rebirth is the only way you can shed those feelings. Neptune’s fluid nature also allows us acceptance, which is needed to deal with such heavy emotions. 

While we always talk about the lack of boundaries as a dangerous or bad thing... and it can be, these lack of boundaries like I mentioned above can allow for a very giving love and empathy, it also allows us to feel or interact with a higher power, magic, and the spiritual. Whatever your beat is - religion, magic, or the belief we are just star stuff, Neptune symbolizes our relationship with it. 

[aminiatureworld]

Opposites

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,594

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: In which the reader is the brain and Xiao is the brawn

Author’s Note: I wasn’t sure what the general setting should be so I put it in a vaguely college/university setting. Prolly cause that’s around my age and also because I cordially dislike highschool AUs. Hopefully that works out alright!

I had to type out almost 2,000 words on my iphone. I never want to do that again.

Xiao

Honestly none of your friends are actually sure how you two got together.

After all, if someone were to take a picture of you and your partner side-by-side then show it to people not in the know, well the prevailing emotion would be something along the lines of: “Are they classmates or neighbors or something?”

To be fair, when the two of your first met even the idea that you would ever end up in love was something laughable. Having been pushed together for a project, your knee-jerk reaction had been: Oh I’m totally going to end up doing this all by myself.

Thankfully however you’d been quickly proven wrong. Although Xiao hadn’t necessarily been the best about planning and other such things, his work was organized and he always showed up to every meeting with his parts completed.

By the end of the project you never wanted to work with another person on a group project again.

And, to be completely honest, you’d definitely developed a crush on your slightly aloof group partner.

Xiao’s reaction was much harder to read.

At first he appeared to want nothing to do with you. Work was emailed to you with not so much as a subject line; meetups passed in awkward silence broken by tentative questions on your part. You’d sort of assumed that he saw you as annoying and the group work as useless - which to be fair it sort of was useless.

So when he emailed you a few weeks later asking for your number and if you wanted to do something, well, safe to say you almost fell out of your chair.

Though the start was a little awkward, Xiao’s conversational nature didn’t develop much in general, you two fell into a routine of sorts, a relationship of unspoken boundaries and spontaneous confidences.

During the first few weeks of you odd sort of relationship you’d come to the conclusion that, though not a talker, Xiao was ultimately quite apathetic in nature. Eventually however you realized apathetic wasn’t the right term.

Though he might’ve appeared sullen on the outside, Xiao never actually acted in a way that hinted at any resentment or irritation; he never dragged his feet about something or implied it was stupid that you should ask for help or for a favor.

His assertiveness, which might’ve been mistaken for aloofness, was endearing. Xiao never half-asses anything, even when if wasn’t doing something for another person, like you.

You appreciated this side of his personality, the fact that he was quick to act, admired if even. It certainly stood in stark contrast to your tendency to overthink things, something that could quickly end up kneecapping you depending on what decisions were being debated.

It was an alien concept to you, the sort of philosophy Xiao seemed to live by, and its novelty was refreshing.

As your thoughts slid more and more to focusing on Xiao you became more and more aware of the rumors that abounded about him.

He was a troubled youth, he was prone to fighting, he had been so uncontrollable in secondary school that only one teacher had been able to get him to do anything. The only times he spoke was to wound, and he never had a word to say that wasn’t angry.

Well, obviously that wasn’t the truth, but any attempt to clear up the situation was quickly met with odd stares and responses that all smacked of: “Oh you poor idiot, you just haven’t learned yet.”

You would’ve liked to think that you didn’t let it affect your relationship with him, but evidently the rumors had begun to catch up to you.

“Hey, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Have I?” You shifted awkwardly in your seat. Xiao sighed, evidently aware of where this was going.

“It’s because of what people say about me, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“I see.”

That had been the beginning and the end of the conversation for quite some time, almost as if Xiao had yet to decide whether or not you were one of the few in whom he could entrust the truth. Yet despite the rumors and the odd looks you still found yourself gravitating towards Xiao, and soon enough that initial pull turned into something much deeper.

The day that you two became “official” was the day Xiao told you the truth. He had been a delinquent as a teenager.

Born into a family full of troubles Xiao shouldered the circumstances as best he could.

However things cannot stay untouched forever; the distress that Xiao experienced only grew, the pressure ratcheting up with every incident, every item thrown to the ground, every fight that ended in humiliating pain.

Eventually it became too much, and when it did Xiao took his anger out not on his family, not on the people who had failed him, but on any classmate who antagonized the vulnerable child.

Fights became a regular part of Xiao’s life until university, and it was only in meeting his mentor, Zhongli, that the lost young man had managed to pull his life together.

Things made more sense after that, though one couldn’t say that everything was right with the world. Students, coworkers, the particularly idiotic TA, all of them still carried the sense that Xiao was not to be trusted. You could see how it upset your partner sometimes, when he was ignored at the coffeeshop or excluded from class group chars in the like.

Whenever he did that Xiao tended to retreat into himself, as if worried he might explode again. It took a lot of coaxing to get him out of such situations but it was always worth it to see your partner’s expression soften, to see his small smile once more.

What you didn’t tell him was that you were just as angry as he was, just as resentful at the people within your major which were hellbent on acting like they were still in high school.

Eventually however the trials of your early were utterly forgotten, the questions and the secrets replaced by a sense of slightly hilarious domestic bliss.

You were definitely the brains of the group, something Xiao didn’t seem to mind - though he probably would find that actual statement somewhat silly.

Xiao, on the other hand, held the esteemed position of Person Who Actually Got Stuff Done. You relied on him to get you out of your mental spirals, to pull you out of your room and out of your brain fog and to get you to do something; even if it wasn’t the thing you were thinking about.

In return it was your job to make sure Xiao didn’t get himself killed doing something stupid.

Xiao’s reticence masked an almost supernatural recklessness. Though your partner didn’t own a motorbike, if he had you were completely convinced he’d ride one without a helmet. His almost total disinterest in his own safety was something that you brain shrunk from, and more often than not a crazy plan of his would end with you listing the terrible things that might happen if something were to go wrong, even if those things weren’t always the most realistic.

There was a storm in twenty minutes? It was the perfect time for a walk! There was cavern nearby with tunnels were so tight you had to walk single file? Sure why not!

He would talk about such things as if there was nothing to it, as if it didn’t send your heart rate spiking. There wasn’t the slightest acknowledgment of danger. Even his tone was as gruff as usual, as if it was the most natural thing to want to go mountain climbing, not interesting enough to get even a little excited about.

It was probably good he did martial arts. You didn’t even want to think about where all that energy would go otherwise.

Xiao’s straightforward nature came out in softer ways too, ways that you envied much more than his full-steam-ahead recklessness.

He was never afraid to state what was on his mind. Whether it was correcting a waiter who got his order wrong or telling a rude doormats to fuck off, all these things were natural to him.

To be honest you completely envied that aspect of him, unable go replicate such a mindset in yourself.

When you’d commented on it once Xiao had stared oddly at you. After a moment he told you that he figured it came from his background. Sometimes you had to learn how to say “no” or “that’s wrong” or “you’re a shitty person.”

Just as you tried to curb the most extreme parts of Xiao’s recklessness, so too did Xiao work to bring you out of the spirals your mind went down sometimes, and so did he try to coax you out of the overthinking that kept you from asserting yourself in your life.

Saying you two were complete opposites wouldn’t really be accurate. You shared similar views, similar passions, similar opinions on what mattered. Yet it was true that, in some ways, you complemented one another. And when it came to those traits in which you differed, well you would like to think that your differences just made you stronger as a couple.

Maybe your friends couldn’t understand how you two got together, or why you were so deeply in love with the person you’d chosen to be your partner. But you didn’t care.

You loved Xiao with all your soul, and, at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

[shakey-hands]

please please can we get fukuzawa awkwardly having to tell ranpo he’s dating reader and the two of them start fighting and reader is subjected to it??? 😍😍

haha yeah. first ask that imma answer, let me know if you guys want more. my asks are open for any (except mineta gross) mha, ouran, or bungo characters :)

{this one is gonna be done with she/her pronouns but if you ask for gender neutral or he/him or any other pronouns, i can do it}

---

The clock struck two when Y/N looked at her phone, leg bouncing up and down in a way that always annoyed the people around her. Great. It was thirty minutes past their meeting time and her boyfriend still had not shown up with what she understood was his adopted son.

It had been a good plan. Meet on neutral territory, gas up (what Y/N assumed was) a teenage boy with a sweets addiction, and then break the news. Y/N was not sure why they needed to go through such lengthy troubles to inform her boyfriend’s son that they were dating. He was at least old enough to understand what dating was. And from what she had heard from Kunikida, Fukuzawa’s son had a very prominent dating life of his own. But Y/N trusted her boyfriend, no matter how many times he looked off into the distance with quiet wisdom that felt vague.

Y/N sipped her tea, realizing that caffeine would only worsen her anxiety. It didn’t matter how many times Fukuzawa and Kunikida tried to tell her that the meeting wouldn’t be a big deal and that the son would love her, she wasn’t so sure. He was working at the Armed Detective Agency and was good at what he did. At least those were Kunikida’s words as Y/N and him were quietly reading in the same room as they did on Saturday nights. While Y/N appreciated Kunikida for his straight forward/driven personality, he did not fare well in comforting her.

Which brought her to her boyfriend. His solid, piercing eyes would always soften as she talked about her day over their dinner dates and he would brush the back of his hand on her cheek in the moments they were alone with one another. While Y/N rarely noticed because she herself was too infatuated with him, Fukuzawa cared deeply for her after seven months of dating. Their last hurdle was introducing Y/N to Ranpo. Fukuzawa was not at all worried since Y/N had a knack for making sweets and made people feel as if they were special when she smiled at them. There was never a shortage of praise around her.

Y/N checked her phone again, hoping that an apology text would come through and she would not be left in the dark. That however was proving difficult. Fukuzawa was driving with Ranpo eating cotton candy in the passenger seat. He had to be bribed away from the sweets table Dazai had set up for some ungodly known reason to mess with Atsushi. It was embarrassing how long it took for Kunikida to pry Ranpo’s little grubby hands away from the snacks and then another amount of time for Fukuzawa to get Ranpo to put on his seatbelt.

It made Fukuzawa nervous that he was so late. He knew Y/N would be understanding, it was part of the reason he enjoyed her company so much. Knowing her, she would probably be bouncing her knee and staring down at the table, overthinking things. He, of course, was right.

As Fukuzawa was pulling into the parking lot, he spotted his girlfriend’s car. It was pristine, as always, and had a small cat paw sticker on the back left bumper. He smiled inwardly, realizing that he had been waiting for this. There was a future with Y/N and Fukuzawa couldn’t wait.

Ranpo still had yet to get out of the car, his glasses dangling from his shirt pocket and a light dusting of sugar crystals on his lips. He was pouting, of course. Kunikida did not pack enough snacks for the car ride, meaning Ranpo did not have the mental energy to get out of the car and go into whatever flop coffee shop the president insisted they go into. People were so stupid and Ranpo already just finished a case that was so obvious. The local police really needed to be more useful.

“Get out of the car,” Fukuzawa said, getting more and more agitated.

“No,” Ranpo said.

“Let’s go. I promise there will be sweets inside the shop.”

“So? There were sweets at the agency.”

Fukuzawa rolled his eyes, knowing Ranpo would sit in the car out of stubbornness. “Ranpo-”

“Yukichi?” A soft voice called out from the entrance of the cafe.

Fukuzawa turned to see Y/N standing right outside. She had a to-go cup of something hot in her hands, jacket sleeves pulled over her hands to stop the warmth from burning her skin. Even though it was overcast and windy, Y/N still seemed to have a certain glow about her that always took Fukuzawa’s breath away. She waved timidly, not knowing why he was awkwardly standing behind his parked car with a weird defensive stance. He nodded over to her, giving her a genuine smile before turning his head back to the car and glaring.

“Is everything okay?”

Y/N began to approach her boyfriend. The only other time she had seen her boyfriend have this stance was when she had bumped into some eyebrowless pale emo kid in an accident at the mall. Fukuzawa seemed to pick the weird fights, but she just smiled through it. His eyes held a certain annoyance the Y/N had not seen before. Her eyebrows furrowed as she took a step off the curb. Fukuzawa held out his hand, motioning her to not get closer. Y/N paused, unsure about his demeanor.

“Ranpo, don’t make me ask again.” Fukuzawa’s voice held a bass to it that Y/N had never heard before. She could only assume it was his dad voice that he has never had to use with her.

The window rolled down on the old car for just a crack. “I don’t remember a question being asked.”

The voice was whiny and slightly muffled, as if the speaker had sweets in his mouth. Fukuzawa rolled his eyes and put his hand on the glass. Y/N was slightly shocked by her boyfriend, but decided to let him do his thing. She was not a parent and the closest time she had ever been was when she had a babysitting gig decades ago when she was a teen. While she was interested in a family, she had neither the time nor mental capacity to follow through. So she stepped back onto the curb and took a sip of her tea, relishing in the warmth it provided.

“Ranpo, if you don’t get out of the damned car, there will be no sweets at the agency for a year.”

A clear threat had been made.

The door slammed into the car next to it, causing a dent that Fukuzawa watched form. Out from the passenger seat, a short man with a slight pout crawled out of the car. Definitely not the young teenager Y/N had been expecting. He was only slightly taller than Y/N and wore a cape. In fact, he looked like a full grown adult, maybe only ten years younger than Y/N. Her face said it all, though neither men were looking at her. They just stared one another down before Fukuzawa remembered his loving girlfriend stood awkwardly behind him. He motioned for her to come over.

Ranpo did not look impressed as he looked her up and down. Y/N looked too ordinary to know Fukuzawa in her jeans and plain jacket combo. Her shoes were dirty from all the yard work she had done throughout the years. As she got closer, Ranpo watched closely as Fukuzawa gently touched the small of her back before wrapping his arm around her waist. While Ranpo had never seen the President act like this, he did not care.

“Ranpo, I would like you to meet-”

Ranpo yawned loudly. “She’s way too old for me. Almost to hag status.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. She began to stumble over her words, not knowing how to respond. Fukuzawa’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe that Ranpo would even think he was trying to set them up. Ranpo made a disgusted face.

“No offense lady, but you don’t even look fun. Like all you do is sit in the dark and contemplate the excitement of frostingless yellow cake.”

How do you respond to that?

Y/N looked down, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She was suddenly thankful for the sudden gust of wind that burned her cheeks, a sign that snow was rolling in. Who insults like that? The little sniffle that Y/N let out set Fukuzawa back into the present instead of the daydream he had slipped into where Ranpo got his ass beat.

“You can’t talk to her like that,” Fukuzawa said sternly. “And she’s not here for you.”

“Obviously. She could never handle the Greatest Detective.”

“No!” Fukuzawa said, tightening his grip on her waist. “I wanted you two to meet because we’ve been dating for a while and I thought it was finally time for you two to meet.”

Ranpo suddenly scoffed dramatically. Once. Twice. Three times. “And here I thought we agreed never to keep secrets! And all this time you’ve been giving your praise to someone else!”

Fukuzawa looked at the small man incredulously. “I’m allowed to date, Ranpo.”

“Not really!” Ranpo exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. Those who were passing by continuously glanced, wondering why they were arguing so loudly in a public space. “How gross is that! You’re like centuries old!”

“Look, I just thought you’d want to be in the know. If I had known you’d throw a tantrum, I would have just waited until after we were married.”

In that moment, Ranpo and Y/N spoke simultaneously:

“Tantrum?!”

“Married!?”

“Oh I’ll show you a tantrum!”

Ranpo pushed the old car to make it move back and forth in its parked place before beginning to punch the glass. There was no real power behind his throws, so there were soft thumps being emitted. Next he started to kick the tires, also without power behind his movements. He truly had transformed into a toddler, making the people walking by walk a little faster. He came off as some random crazy person on the street rather than an acclaimed detective.

Fukuzawa didn’t know where to look until a warm soft hand held his cheek, guiding his eyes towards Y/N’s. She smiled softly, ignoring Ranpo as he began to get physical. Her smile caused a chain reaction in Fukuzawa’s heart, making him resist the urge to get down on one knee at that very instance. He did have the ring adding weight to his pocket. She kissed his forehead, making him awkwardly bend down as she chuckled against his skin.

“You want to marry me?”

Fukuzawa blushed slightly. “In due time, of course.”

She chuckled again and nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m not calling her mom!”

[danydragons21]

The Shadows That Sing: Ch. 9

Elriel Multi-Chapter Fic

Chapter 9 is up, and it’s definitely one of my favorites. I just love writing Vassa’s character!

Read it on Ao3 here: 

Shoutout to my betas @shedoessoshedoes and @helloyesimrhys!

Let me know your thoughts, my sweet Elriel babies. 

xoxo, dany

CHAPTER 9: TRUTHS AND LIES

An old man answered the door. Perhaps it was because she was around immortal and young-looking Fae all the time, but she thought he might be the oldest person she’d ever seen. Deep wrinkles formed grooves and channels among the topography of his face. His mortal heart started beating faster as he took in the sight of her and Azriel (though she was sure this was mostly due to Azriel’s intimidating presence rather than her own, since she was as intimidating as a sack of potatoes), but to the human’s credit, he gave no outward sign of fear.

After introducing himself as Damien, the Steward of the Manor, the man ushered them inside. A split staircase made of stone stood in the center of the spacious foyer, the wide steps leading to a roomy landing with two narrowing flights branching off to either side. The staircase railing was made of wrought iron. Stunningly intricate marble statues and busts atop podiums were placed strategically throughout the entrance hall, and as Elain’s slipper-clad feet pitter-pattered lightly across the black-and-white tiled floor, a glimmer of light caught her eye. Glancing upward, she saw a gigantic crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The light from the candles on the wall reflected against the crystals and cast glittering diamonds of colored light on various surfaces throughout the hall.

She and Azriel did not speak as they continued to follow Damien throughout the Manor. For such an old man, he was surprisingly quick, and she found herself wishing they could slow down, if only so she could admire her surroundings: astounding frescoes painted on the walls and ceilings, tapestries woven with what looked like real gold, and carpets so plush she thought she could sleep on them. But the Steward led them through the Manor’s winding hallways, and Elain settled for exploring the many treasures another time. She’d be here for a month, after all.

Eventually, they entered a hall that was much darker than the rest of the Manor, and much sparser.  Blood-red columns and dimly-lit candelabras lined the narrow corridor. Damien halted in front of a set of arched crimson doors at the end of the hall. Words, etched in gold, covered the doors’ surface, but it was of no language Elain could recognize.

“This is the entrance to the Throne Room. Her Grace is waiting inside for you both.” Damien said.

Elain and Azriel’s eyes met. With a slight nod of her head, Elain motioned to Azriel that she was fine, she was ready, she could do this. And it warmed some crucial part of her when Azriel nodded in return, offering her a small smile, his belief in her nearly palpable.

The doors flew open and the pair stepped inside the cavernous throne room. Lucien stood at the bottom of a set of steep steps. Above him, sitting on a golden gilded throne, was Vassa.

The mortal queen was utterly stunning. Fiery red hair fell to her shoulders, contrasting magnificently against her golden-brown skin. The top of her emerald gown was made of lace and clung tightly to her delicate torso. Once the dress hit her waist, it expanded outward, the perfectly-creased pleats flowing to the ground like a river. The train of the dress was so long it reached the bottom of the steps that led to the throne. Bright blue eyes scanned them smartly. The thought suddenly struck her that if anyone were to figure out her secret mission, it would be Vassa.

Elain curtsied deeply. “It’s lovely to meet you, Your Grace. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

Vassa smiled slightly, though her piercing eyes still appraised Elain. “You are most welcome, Elain Archeron. Kingslayer . You are even more beautiful than Lucien has described.”

Elain remained silent, schooling her face into cold stone. She felt an irrational flash of rage at the thought of Lucien discussing her beauty like that, as though she was a painting to be ogled at like the frescos in the entrance hall. She snuck a glance at Azriel, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face was as steely as ever.

“I appreciate the compliment, Your Grace.” Elain said finally.

The mortal queen waved a dainty hand, her heavy bracelets jangling as she did so. “Call me Vassa. Your Grace is so formal, don’t you think? We’ll be living together for the next month, and if I have to hear such courtesies every day, I might as well just hand myself over to Koschei now.”

Elain blinked. Even Azriel seemed surprised at the queen’s words.

Clearing his throat, Lucien said, “You’ll realize soon, if you haven’t already, that Vassa does not have a filter. If she thinks it, she says it. It’s something she’s working on.”

Vassa scowled at Lucien, who grinned lightly back at her. Elain felt the strangest tug in her belly at the sight. Ignoring it, she said, “I appreciate the familiarity, Vassa.” Familiarities are for friends. She wondered what that made her and the mortal queen.

Turning her attention to Azriel, Vassa said, “Shadowsinger. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance again.”

Azriel bowed slightly. “Likewise, Your—Vassa,” he finished uncertainly.

She beamed, apparently pleased with his discomfort. “I hear you’re going to be a regular visitor at my manor. I hope you know that you are always welcome at any time, even outside of your scheduled sessions with Elain.” Elain felt an awkward tug around her heart, as though someone had tied a string around her ribcage and pulled. The feeling was uncomfortably familiar, and she knew without looking at Lucien that he would prefer the Shadowsinger not take the queen up on her offer.

Azriel inclined his head. “That’s very gracious of you.”

Grinning mischievously, Vassa said, “It’s not every day someone so devilishly handsome enters my home. I’d be silly not to take advantage of it.”

Elain’s eyes widened. She was not sure what she expected Vassa to be like, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine her to be so... forward . She turned to Azriel slightly, gauging his reaction, only to find the Spymaster blushing . The knot in the pit of her stomach hardened.

“Is Vassa already scaring off the newcomers?” A drawling voice appeared from the other end of the throne room. Elain knew that voice. She’d heard it before, on two of the worst days of her life.

Jurian strolled into the room, all ease and confidence. He was quite handsome, she supposed, for a mortal, but he paled in comparison to both Azriel and Lucien’s otherworldly beauty. He stopped in front of Elain. “Lady Archeron,” he said, “It’s lovely to see you again.” He then proceeded to bend obscenely low, grab her hand and kiss it lightly, holding her gaze the entire time. Elain’s cheeks turned scarlet. She wasn’t sure she liked the man too much - he seemed far too arrogant.

“Elain is fine,” she told him evenly. He continued to hold her hand. Behind her, she heard the rustle of Azriel’s wings flexing ever so slightly.

“Jurian, you absolute prick, let go of her hand before you lose one of your own,” Vassa said, and although it was clear she was joking, an edge of honesty laced her words. The mortal queen’s eyes flitted to Lucien, who stood tensely beside her, frozen like a statue.

“Just welcoming our new roommate,” Jurian said. He winked at her, but dropped her hand all the same. The mortal then turned to Azriel. “Shadowsinger,” He said with a trace of apprehension. Jurian had been the one to shoot Azriel with an ash arrow in Hybern, Elain suddenly remembered, and her dislike for the man grew. Azriel acknowledged Jurian’s greeting with the smallest nod of his head, like he was flicking off an irksome fly. His shadows swirled ominously around him, and Elain was pleased to see Jurian wince slightly at the impressive display.

Vassa rose gracefully from her throne and made her way down the steep, stone steps. Jurian rushed to grab her hand, helping her down; Lucien’s eyes flashed curiously in response, but he said nothing.

“Azriel, you’ll be staying for a while, I hope?” Vassa asked.

The Shadowsinger nodded, his shadows bobbing along with the movement. “Yes. I’ll be making sure Elain settles in, and then I’ll depart after our daily training session.”

Vassa clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, you must stay for dinner! I’m having the cooks prepare something special for Elain’s first evening here. We even imported some exotic wine from the southern realms. Oh, please say you’ll stay!” Her azure eyes gleamed with sincerity.

Shifting, Azriel replied stiffly, “I couldn’t possibly impose--”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. You would be a welcome guest. If anything, you’ll be doing Elain and I a favor, saving us from listening to Lucien and Jurian all evening. I’ve never met males who enjoy hearing themselves talk as much as these two.” The two males in question attempted to argue this point indignantly, but Vassa ignored them and looked expectantly at Azriel, awaiting his answer.

Elain bit back a grin as Azriel finally nodded his agreement. She’d never seen the Spymaster acquiesce to someone’s demand so quickly, but it was abundantly clear that Vassa excelled at the art of persuasion, the skill either stemming from her sharp intelligence, inviting aura, or some lethal combination of the two. Either way, she was certain that Vassa would not be easily fooled. That made Elain’s mission all the more difficult.

“Wonderful!” Vassa beamed at Azriel, who continued to look as awkward as she’d ever seen him. It was quite funny, really. “Now we can really get to know each other,” She winked.

Elain frowned. Quickly, she cast around for a new subject, but Lucien beat her to it.

“Have you had any more visions about Koschei?” He asked Elain.

“No, I have not.” She didn’t look at Lucien as she responded, instead staring at Vassa, who had gone still at the question.

“But you’re trying to see him, right? You’re trying to find a way for Vassa to get out of the curse?” Jurian demanded.

Elain blinked. “Yes, of course.” She answered.

Coolly, Azriel said, “Elain just started training her powers recently. She has made immense progress, but does not have complete control over what visions she receives. That will come in time.”

“We don’t have time,” Jurian growled.

Azriel’s wings snapped out menacingly as Vassa laid a steadying hand on Jurian’s arm.

“That was uncalled for, Jurian.” She told the man sternly. The voice of a queen talking to a subject. But when she turned to face Elain, emotion burned in her eyes.

“Please excuse my friend. This curse has, unfortunately, been a burden on us all. But I hope you know how grateful we are--how grateful I am-- that you are doing all you can to help me. After so long with no hope…to even have that glimmer of optimism returned, well, it means more than I can express.”

Elain swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I will do everything I can. I promise.” It was all the comfort she could offer, but Vassa nodded like it was enough.

“Well, enough of this horrifyingly morose chat! Elain, I would love to give you a tour of the Manor. I hear you enjoy gardening. I’m afraid we don’t have a garden on our grounds, but we have something else I think you’ll enjoy just as much. Would you like to see?”

It wasn’t like Elain could say no. Besides, Vassa had her curiosity piqued.

“Gladly,” She responded, smiling lightly.

“Should I come, too?” Azriel murmured. Elain looked up at him, surprised at the question. Why was he acting so protective?

“Oh, we’ll be just fine.” Vassa trilled. “Besides, the aggressive male testosterone emanating from you all is clogging up my pores. Us girls need some fresh air.”

Elain couldn’t help it. She giggled.

Everyone in the room turned to her. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth with her hands, lowering them just enough to whisper, “Sorry.”

But the human queen was smiling at her, something like approval glowing in her eyes. “Well, at least one of you has a sense of humor.”

***

Vassa led Elain through the manor’s hallways, pointing out various portraits of past queens, also known as her ancestors. “That’s my great-great-grandmother, Althea,” Vassa said, gesturing toward a painting of a particularly rotund woman with a face like a toad. “She was the most-hated queen of her age, and almost got my family kicked off the throne.”  

Elain’s eyebrows raised at that. “Why was she so hated?”

Vassa smirked slightly. “Did you see that painting of her? She looked like an old witch and had a personality to match. Althea would execute anyone who dared disagree with her, even if it was over something as insignificant as what tea to serve at breakfast. Thank God she died of The Pox before she could desecrate the family name anymore.”

Elain laughed, shaking her head slightly, bemused by this mortal queen with humor and heart as fiery as her tresses.

The Mortal Manor, it turns out, actually was a castle, or at least it had been built as one initially. A lesser Lord and Lady had lived there, so the castle was rather on the smaller side, according to Vassa, but Elain thought it would be a miracle if she ever managed to find her way around the place without an escort.

“It’s considered a manor now, though,” Vassa told Elain, lifting up a tapestry and motioning for her to follow. “It’s a secret passageway,” the queen said in response to Elain’s confused look. “I can’t say it’s much of a secret, though; I’m pretty sure every handmaiden and their pet cat know about it. It’s rather short and just leads to the conservatory.”  

The conservatory, it turned out, was the most beautiful room Elain had ever seen. It’s high and arching walls were made entirely out of wide windows. Rows of colorful blooms, perfectly trimmed hedges and shrubs, sprawling plants, and flowers of every kind covered nearly every surface of the wide and spacious area. Heavy sunlight refracted in the glass, coating the various fauna in a blazing, golden brilliance. In the very center was a rectangular pool; lilies floated lazily on the clear and calm surface. The heavenly scent the flowers emitted, the angelic glow of the afternoon sun against the blossoms, the soft chirping of the birds that lived in this cavernous haven...she took a deep breath, soaking in the sudden and steady sense of peace she felt.

“Do you like it?” Vassa’s voice shattered the quiet of Elain’s thoughts.

Turning around, Elain saw the mortal queen standing a bit behind her, a curiously vulnerable look on her face. As if she was nervously awaiting Elain’s reaction. As if she truly cared about her opinion.

It softened that part of Elain. That part she’d hoped to shove away and ignore during her stay because she knew it would only complicate her mission. While her sisters were vehement and slightly mistrustful of every stranger until proved otherwise, Elain had always found a way to connect with each person she came across. Like ivy, sprawling and uncontrollable, her heart just reached out to others.

And that’s what happened now, as she stared at this passionate and willful young woman who she rather liked but was assigned the task of spying on her: Elain’s heart reached out to her.

“It’s sublime,” Elain told her honestly. A beaming grin appeared on Vassa’s face, and Elain couldn’t stop her own smile. “Thank you, truly, for showing me.”

“I hope it makes you feel a little more at home.”

“It does. You’re very kind.”

Vassa smiled again and walked forward to lightly stroke a gardenia. When she turned to face Elain again, the smile was gone, replaced with a look Elain could only describe as queenly . “I know why you’re here,” Vassa said.

Elain froze. “What?” She asked, her throat dry. How could she have figured it out already? Elain had been nothing but polite and kind and oh-so-convincing --

“I know you are not interested in the bond with Lucien,” Vassa said, and Elain’s racing heart relaxed slightly. “He’s told me much about your interactions, and while I don’t blame you for anything...I think it’s clear to everyone here that you have no desire to connect with Lucien. So that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To reject the bond once and for all.”

Swallowing nervously, Elain said, “I...I’m not sure what to say.”

“The truth,” Vassa replied simply. “Just tell me the truth. What is it you want to accomplish during your stay?”

Just be yourself . Azriel’s voice rang in her ears.

“I don’t know, “ Elain answered. “I am not sure exactly what I want to accomplish. And that’s the truth.”

And it was the truth, to a point. Enough of the truth to cloak any deceptions. That’s how Azriel operated, a mix of honesty and an omittance of anything that might erase that honesty. Just enough truth to hide the lies beneath. And so that’s what Elain emulated as she spoke to the mortal queen.

Vassa appraised her for a moment, her sharp blue eyes gleaming. “Why do you detest Lucien so?”

“I don’t detest him.” Another truth, one that Elain had barely admitted to herself. “I just…” she breathed deeply, longing for air and for the insight of what to say next. Truth and lies , she reminded herself. “All I know about him is that he didn’t help Feyre when she needed it most. That he worked with the King of Hybern to steal her back. To steal me , and Nesta. And, whether or not he knew of the King’s plan, he was still there the night my future and my freedom were ripped from me in mere moments. And ever since then...ever since then, I haven’t known what to do with myself at all.”

It was, perhaps, the most she’d ever spoken about the emptiness the Cauldron had left in her. Feyre and the others told her that the Cauldron had gifted her with her powers, while Nesta had stolen from it, but it didn’t feel like that to Elain. No, all she felt was an aching hollowness that echoed in her very bones. A constant and cruel reminder of all she’d lost.

Vassa stared at her, her beautiful face unreadable in the glowing sun. “It changes you,” She finally said. “To have such decisions, to have such freedom taken away from you…” Vassa inhaled sharply, tilting her head up to face the gleaming sun. Elain watched her, watched her golden skin reflecting in the light, watched as the mortal queen whipped her head back. “I understand how you feel, Elain. I hope you know that.”

And while Elain did not know the full extent of Vassa’s story or exactly what she’d gone through while under Koschei’s grasp, she believed her. And she didn’t just think it was because of Vassa’s endearing personality or her own - what had Azriel called it? - ability to inspire trust in others. She felt a kinship in Vassa, like she’d known her in a past life. But she couldn’t put all that into words, so she just nodded.

Vassa combed through her fiery hair and then said in a calm voice, “I also hope you know that, over the past year, I have spent a lot of time with Lucien. I would never try to negate the trauma that you’ve experienced, or try and convince you that he did not play a part in it, willing or not. But I will tell you this, as objectively and simply as I can: He is a good male, Elain. He would never force you to accept the bond. Just as he would never tell you how much your denial and evasion is tearing him apart. I say this as his friend...and as yours.”

Elain just blinked. The honesty was scalding and refreshing all at once. And while her stomach twisted angrily every time she thought of her sisters telling her to address the bond, she found she didn’t really mind Vassa talking about it.

“While you are here, I hope you get to know him. And at the end of your stay, I hope you can make a decision about the bond. One way or another.”

“I will,” Elain said. “I will make a decision.” And it was entirely, completely, wholly the truth.

***

Azriel sat in the dining room with Jurian and Lucien. After an uncomfortable and tense tour of the Manor, the three had gone to the dining room for dinner. The two females had not yet arrived, though.

Elain had been gone with Vassa for a long time. Or perhaps the incredible awkwardness between him and the two males just made it seem like a long time. Either way, he needed Elain to return soon, or else he might just go mad, stuck with just these two pricks and his morose thoughts for company. He couldn’t stop reliving the conversation from the previous evening, when Elain had agreed to this foolish plan. It was nearly unbearable for Azriel, to sit there and listen to everyone try and convince Elain that the bond was something she had to address. Why should she have to do anything? She didn’t ask for the bond. It was clear she didn’t want it.

And yet Azriel said nothing, did nothing, just let them all bombard her with their words and pressures. He didn’t even need his shadows to know how upset it made Elain, how her beautiful face fell into itself a little more with every word the others spoke.

She had agreed in the end, though. And he kicked himself for ever holding out hope that she wouldn’t.

It’s not that he didn’t have faith in her. He knew she could fool and charm just about anyone, so he wasn’t worried about her spying skills. Spying was simply hiding in plain sight, and Elain certainly excelled at that.

No, he was worried about something else entirely. Someone else, to be exact. Because whatever the others might say about not caring if Elain accepted or rejected the bond, he knew that wasn’t true. Elain accepting the bond would be incredibly beneficial in improving the Night Court’s relationships with both the Autumn Court and the Spring Court, and would ensure the continued support of Vassa. As much as Azriel didn’t like Lucien, he couldn’t help but feel a begrudging sort of respect to the highly influential male who held sway over multiple courts. But that didn’t give any of them the fucking right to pressure Elain into anything .

The Mortal Manor made him feel even worse. His shadows had rarely ever been limited in their power, and so it was strange to have them so confined. They could move, of course, and still followed his command, but the entirety of the manor seemed to be close enough to Vassa that all his shadows heard were a faint humming noise, like a mosquito buzzing in his ear.

Even with Vassa out of the room, the buzzing lingered. He wished he could have gone with them (not only did he wish to keep Elain in his sight while he still could, but he had no desire to spend quality time with Lucien and Jurian, both of which were arguably two of his least favorite beings. If only Eris was here to complete the motley trio).

Lucien had yet to speak to him directly since his arrival. Azriel knew it was because of his parting remarks the week before -- his warning. About what he’d do to Lucien if the male ever forced Elain to do something she didn’t want to do. He didn’t regret it, not in the slightest. But sitting across from Lucien’s murderous glower wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience. He’d rather do something more pleasant, like stick toothpicks under his nails.

And Jurian was, if possible, even worse. The human never. Shut. Up. He talked constantly, about any and every thing that popped into his head, it seemed.

Now I feel even worse about leaving Elain here. His cold heart hardened a little more at the thought.

The doors swung open and Vassa sashayed into the dining room, Elain following.

It took all his effort to not let his mouth drop as he took in the middle Archeron sister. She was wearing a silver gown with material so smooth and sleek it looked liquid. The dress clung to her small chest and the generous curves of her rear like a second skin, but she still somehow looked innocent, intoxicatingly so. Her golden-brown hair was piled into an elegant but simple updo at the top of her head, a few curls hanging loosely around her angelic face.

A heaviness settled in his chest as his eyes zeroed in on her exposed neck. It seemed the greatest tragedy of his life: he’d touched her there, once.

Elain’s eyes flitted up and locked with his, and time ceased to exist, for a brief moment. That was all he and Elain were allowed to have. Fleeting moments, as vital as they were destructive.

“Sorry we’re late,” Vassa said airily. She was wearing a new dress as well, Azriel suddenly noticed.  He frowned. Usually his shadows would have told him that the two females had ventured to their respective quarters to change. Without his shadows abilities working, he felt impaired.

The two females settled themselves into chairs. Azriel tried to control his disappointment when Vassa took the empty chair to his left, leaving Elain to sit between Lucien and Jurian.

“How was your afternoon?” Lucien asked Elain.

Bitterness filled his chest at the gentle, cautious way he spoke to her, like he was approaching a timid animal. She was not a creature to be coddled and comforted. She was a lethal and lovely force of nature.

“It was delightful. How was yours?” She kept her voice neutral, not engaging but not dismissive. His stomach dropped at the light that appeared in Lucien’s eyes.

“It was pleasant, as well. I’m glad you enjoyed your afternoon. I hope you know how excited I...how excited Vassa has been to have you here.”

Ignoring his stumble, Elain smiled tightly and nodded once before piling green beans onto her plate. Her eyes flashed up to Azriel; he was watching her closely, but could see nothing in her expression besides discomfort. Good. Without it, she would seem suspicious to the others.

But then Elain began asking Lucien and Jurian a few questions; it was casual, polite conversation, but still: she was initiating it. He stabbed his chicken angrily with his fork, trying to ignore her light, lilting voice, trying to pretend the sound didn’t make his skin tingle.

“Are you alright?” Vassa asked him. The mortal queen was watching him curiously.

“Yes,” Azriel responded shortly.

Vassa arched an eyebrow. “You’re quite prickly, you know.”

Azriel frowned. “And you’re quite nosy.”

Across the table, Elain froze with a forkful of beans halfway to her mouth, dark eyes flashing in warning. Azriel almost chuckled at her shock. But then Vassa laughed, an uninhibited, ringing sound. “Yes,” She agreed.

“So I’m curious,” Vassa began, swirling her wine glass and taking a deep sip before continuing, “What is your stake in all of this?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Vassa nodded across the table to Elain, who had returned to her conversation with the other two males. “You’re helping her train. Why?”

Azriel stiffened. “My High Lord and Lady asked me to. As a member of the Night Court, it is my duty and my honor to serve their wishes to the best of my ability.”

“Oh, please,” Vassa said loudly, and Azriel saw the others glance curiously at her before continuing their conversation. “Don’t feed that bullshit to a Queen. I may not know you, but I know of you, and reputation eclipses familiarity, much of the time. You don’t do anything you don’t want to do. So, I’ll ask again...what is your stake in all of this?”

You don’t do anything you don’t want to do. How he wished that was true. But he kept his face as unreadable as ever as he said, “Helping her means helping you, and that means helping my Court. I am sorry that my answer is not the one you were looking for.”

“So you and Elain aren’t close? That’s rather surprising. Aren’t both of your alleged brothers mated to her sisters? And you’re quite protective over her.”

His wings tensed. This mortal woman was certainly tenacious. And observant. “I wouldn’t say we are particularly close,” Azriel said. Anymore, he thought. “But I would consider her...a friend.” He finished.

Vassa surveyed him for a moment, her piercing blue eyes nearly scorching in their intensity. Azriel held her gaze. Whatever Vassa found, she seemed to accept, as she turned back to the others.

“She certainly is an easy person to be friends with,” Vassa said, watching Elain with a small smile on her face. And that’s how easy it was for Azriel to see that, like everyone who’d ever met the middle Archeron sister, the mortal queen had fallen under Elain’s spell.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Azriel replied, “Yes. She is.”

***

After dinner, Elain and Azriel left the others for her training session. Elain had asked if they could hold the sessions in the conservatory - “It just makes me feel safer and more in control of myself, to be in such a beautiful place,” Elain said to Vassa at dinner. The queen had lit up at Elain’s request, telling her the room was hers as long as she needed it.

So that’s how Az found himself in the manor’s conservatory with Elain. It was dark outside, now, but the moon shone so brightly that they had no trouble seeing.

She sat across from him on a bench in the very center of the cavernous atrium, her wide brown eyes surveying the peaceful scene in front of her.

“This is a nice place,” Azriel commented lamely.

This is a nice place?! He could not be more awkward if he tried.

But of course Elain did not tease him. Not like she used to. Because they weren’t friends anymore.

Instead, she said, “It is, isn’t it? I also figured it would be difficult for anyone to overhear us here.”

Az grinned. “Smart,” he said truthfully.

Shrugging, Elain said with a slight sparkle in her eye, “It’s been known to happen.” There . Even if it was faint...that little piece of her that treated him with amusement and (dare he say it?) affection still existed.

“You did well today,” He told her, leaning back and stretching out his long legs.

“It was easier than I thought,” Elain said. “To pretend...or at least to hide. I don’t know if that makes me happy or not.”

He cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t that make you happy?”

She looked at him. “It feels an awful lot like lying. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Azriel found he did not know what to say to that.

“I do think the conservatory will help with my training,” Elain mused, turning her gaze up to the wide windows. The moon gleamed through the glass panes like a beacon. “The peaceful darkness...the quiet contentment...the vibrant life you can feel ...all of it makes me feel more in control of myself. More powerful, even.” She smoothed down the front of her gown. “It was very kind of Vassa to offer this room up to us.”

“She thinks very highly of you.”

“I know.” Elain’s voice was tired, resigned. “I could easily see myself becoming friends with her. But I know that would only complicate my mission.”

“Perhaps. It’s all about finding a balance. You can respect her, like her even, share confidences and stories and experiences...but it’s true you need to stay objective. Get close to Vassa - but not too close. The same goes for both Jurian and...and Lucien.” The name tasted like vinegar in his mouth, but he forced himself to say it.

Elain was quiet for a long moment, lost in her thoughts. “Shall we begin training?” She asked after a while.

“One other thing first.” Straightening up and fully turning his body to face Elain, he waited until she met his gaze. Trepidation filled her brown eyes as she noticed his solemn intensity.

“What?” She asked slowly.

“Are you ready to talk about how your hands glowed at dinner last night?”

[shortpplfedup]

Examining IPYTM: on intentions, perspectives and expectations of stories

I'm about to go Full Meta and gaze deeply and philosophically into my navel here, fair warning if you're not interested in reading that...lol.

I think one of the most important things about consuming art, of whatever type but especially media, is to engage with it on its own terms. Not to insert what you wanted that piece of work to do, but to acknowledge and accept what it wants to do, what it tries to do, and judge how effectively it has done that thing. It’s not that it’s not helpful or useful to judge the intention of a work, but I tend to prefer to interrogate purpose after the fact.

Well here we are, after the fact. I've made no secret of how personal this story, this experience has been to me. One of the things that drew me to ITSAY was the balance between the specificity of the story itself and the universality of the themes. These very specific people, having this very specific experience, in this very specific place; people, experiences and a place worlds apart from mine, but emotionally near. In IPYTM the specificity of the story really captured me, grabbed me by the throat and shook me honestly, because so much of this shit ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO ME. Like almost character for character, scene for scene, word for word sometimes. It was raw. The way I felt seen by ITSAY was general; the way I felt seen by IPYTM was specific.

When you feel so seen by a story, identify so strongly with it, it's easy to feel personally attacked by criticisms of it because it feels like those people are criticising YOU, YOUR life, YOUR story. I've felt that, and had to take a step back and a deep breath and remind myself that art is subjective. We all engage with and view art through the lenses of our own individual emotions and experiences, and our opinions of it will always be largely formed by that. That's why at the heart of it I always prefer to engage on methods rather than meaning when it comes to art and media. Methods can be effective or not effective, but meaning is individual and personal. What did you want to achieve, did you in fact achieve all or some of that, and how effective were your techniques towards achieving what you wanted? The question of whether what you wanted to achieve was worth the effort is thornier and ultimately objectively unanswerable most of the time. But I'm going to try to talk about both.

The method

IPYTM relies on our knowledge of the characters and their history from their strong establishment in ITSAY. It doesn't spend time re-establishing things it assumes we already know, and focuses more on telling the story of how those characters with that history would react to and engage with an outside world very different from the one they know. It's plottier than ITSAY, deliberately. It moves faster than ITSAY, also deliberately. It has an externality to it, where ITSAY was very internal. I think the contrast serves it well, because it was always going to be compared to ITSAY. I can see how the creators would not want to make a copy of ITSAY, but something that took the same characters, same themes, and expanded on and evolved them, telling a longer, more complex, ultimately more grown up story.

When I think about how the story of IPYTM was told, the word I think of is 'balance'. So much of telling a story on screen is a high-wire act: too far on one side or another and things can feel wobbly. And there are some things where the balance could be perceived as not quite there: the balance between heartwarming and heartbreaking, between the emotional highs and the emotional lows, between Teh's story and Oh Aew's, between specificity and universality, between showing and telling, between being the second part of a whole and being a complete tale in its own right.

Some of the balancing issues are about pacing. I ultimately think the instinct to give us the complete story of their coming of age was the right one. But showing the passage of time in a story is difficult from a technical standpoint. I think most of the time skips were the right move, but there were two places where at least some of the passage of time probably needed to be on screen, as a montage or as scene work: the eight-month skip in episode 2, and the one-year skip between episodes 2 and 3. I understand the instinct to be economical in storytelling, and take certain things as read, but I think there were opportunities lost there to round out the story, and perhaps put in some more emotional highs or heartwarming moments to feel Teh and Oh Aew's connection more as a present tense thing than a past tense thing.

Some balancing issues are about subject. I personally loved the 'inside baseball' aspect of delving so deeply into the specific experience of being in the performing arts, because that's my experience, and it's also the creators' experience, and because of that specificity there's a verisimilitude to the tale. It really is a love letter to coming of age in the performing arts world, saying 'hey, we see you'. But I can see how for an audience without that specific experience, those aspects of the story would be hard to connect to.

There's also the question of whose story is being told here. Because of the subject choice, and the pacing choice, and the character's journey, Teh is really the main protagonist of this story. Oh Aew is not a 'side character', I think that's a not quite fair critique of the story and the writing, but he's definitely a secondary protagonist. It's strange how that shakes out on screen though. Ultimately, the writers put us mainly into Teh's head, but into Oh Aew's heart. The story is mostly from Teh's perspective, but Oh Aew's feelings are the ones we feel strongest. It's an odd dichotomy, and not one I'm totally sure they were aware of in writing. But I think it's a choice that also feels like a bit of a lost opportunity. Because what happens is that how you feel about Teh becomes a stand in for how you feel about the story; if you understand him and feel connected to him you have one view, and if you can't understand him and feel disconnected from him you have quite another. And while Oh Aew is not lost exactly, he's still very much a character with his own agency, you did want to get into his choices and thoughts more.

On balance, I think the methods used to tell the story that they wanted to tell are largely effective, with a few wobbles. If I had to rate, I'd say 8.5/10 for execution.

The meaning

TV is such a weird artistic medium, because it's the perfect amalgam of art and commerce in a way no other medium can quite match. TV by its very nature doesn't exist, doesn't get made without an audience. And with an audience, a body with its own perceptions and expectations that filter what you intend into what they receive, the question of balance comes up again: balancing what the creator wants to show with what the audience wants to see.

What kind of story is this? How is it categorised, exactly? Where does the audience locate it in the artistic firmament? The creators have always insisted that ITSAY/IPYTM is a coming of age story. And it is, at its heart, in that it portrays themes of self discovery, loss of innocence, first love and first heartbreak, leaving the bubble of childhood and entering the big wide world, the transition to adulthood and the leaving behind of childish things and childish notions. But it's a coming of age story situated within some very specific narrative worlds with their own tropes, expectations and antecedent contexts: the worlds of BL and queer media.

I can't not address the cheating story point in the context of this. Personally, I think the story choice made sense both narratively and in character. Because honestly, what else would have made Oh Aew leave Teh? Teh's been half his life, his world has revolved around him. It had to be something he couldn't excuse and couldn't forgive. And there had to be a breaking out of their toxic patterns for their love to stand an actual chance. Teh has always gotten hyperfocused on things, and acted on his immediate unexamined feelings about those things first and had to face the consequences in order to self-examine later, the ultimate burn-to-learn character. It's just hard to watch when the thing he's hyperfocused on isn't Oh Aew. I don't think the story choice was easy, and I don't think it was cheap, and I don't think it destroyed anything about what came before or after, because loving and growing is messy as shit. But I think for an audience steeped and experienced in tropes and conventions, and who has seen those tropes and conventions used easily and cheaply, I could see it being hard to step outside of the feeling that using these tropes and conventions at all is easy and cheap, especially when they inflict emotional pain.

In the end, what do creators owe to their audiences? Truth or comfort? There's no right or wrong answer to that. This story could have been different. They could've gone for comfort, made what some portion of the audience was expecting and perhaps craving, and they could have made it very well and everybody would have loved it. But this is the story they wanted to tell all along, in its totality: not a comforting romance, but a hard true love story, one about loving and learning and hurting and forgiving and, ultimately, about growing up and realising that life and love are both painful and beautiful. Not a subversive or barrier breaking idea by any means, but this was never a subversive or barrier breaking story.

And that's what it boils down to: for me, a show doesn't have to be subversive and barrier breaking to be good. I'm a sucker for a simple, conventional, traditional story done well, and that's what I got. Boy meets boy, boy falls in love with boy, life ensues, boy fucks up and loses boy, both boys learn life lessons, boy reunites with boy, both boys older and wiser. Nothing groundbreaking there. But the DETAILS. The simple story is elevated by some really emotionally raw writing, great production and visual design, and the power of its two leads and their unreal connection. I feel like I've gained so much from watching this story. I've been very open about the emotions it has stirred up for me and the memories of my past, and how watching this has felt like closure and healing. And in the end that's what I take away from this: it made me feel real, deep things, and that to me is the highest praise I can give a piece of art.

So if I had to rate the story on whether what it wanted to say was worth the effort: 12/10.

Goodbye Teh and Oh Aew, and this world, and this story that will always have a place in my heart. Thank you, to everybody who had a hand in making this and putting it on screen. It was a truly beautiful experience.

[bbugyu]

hi! could i request a jeonghan enemies (or friends that bicker a lot) to lovers? ty and i love ur writing !!

i am so glad you requested this because i have had this in the works for so long that i had to throw it into a case converter because it had capitalization and i was Not gonna finish it if i had to type it proper (i'm a fucking gremlin ok)

thank u for reading my work and thank u for giving me the perfect excuse to be hopelessly in love with jeonghan!!!!

falling + yoon jeonghan

finally, he thought. someone on his level. what’s the catch?

part one | part two

wc.10009 (fuckin oops) | fluff, humor, uni/coffeeshop/enemies to lovers au, gender neutral reader, slow burn, drinking, like lk too much drinking, swearing, throwing it back to sistar, copious argumentive flirting, everyone is MEAN but like in a funny way, bff!mingyu, it's your resident mingyuzi shipper, the only person more of a little shit than jeonghan is y/n

i used to be a barista and i would get exceptionally hateful towards customers for really stupid reasons and the only thing that could stop it is if they were really hot. this seems to hold great jeonghan energy. also i made y/n, like, mean as hell. like not actually mean but like. Mean. sorry. also all bars mentioned are real bars on capital hill in seattle that i love so if you recognize them that’s why. enjoy this enemies to lovers courtship.

*

you were pretentious, jeonghan thought. you acted like you were better than everyone else, and he hated that he had yet to find a reason to call you wrong.

he saw you almost every day during the week, between the class you shared on tuesdays and thursdays, and the cafe he worked in that you frequented to study. your demeanor was always polite, but what most people would describe as cold. you had caught his attention the first day of the semester, something about you seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it until he made your coffee the next day. you usually sat in the row in front of him, a few seats over, and he would chew on his cheek and wonder how you could sit back in your chair, arms crossed and eyes hardly opened, but still get the highest essay scores in the class. at the end of lecture, after he was done spending all his brain power stewing about your ability to succeed in visual culture without really trying, he would text his friend that took the class last quarter and ask, panic stricken, if he still had his notes, the irony of the situation completely lost on him.

at the cafe, you would come in, order an americano, and sit yourself in a well lit corner to work on your classes for a few hours, the coffee mostly undisturbed on the table beside your favorite armchair, then leave. there was never a smile on your face, and you were always alone. jeonghan watched the ice in your americano melt, watering down the coffee he made. maybe he had let the shots of espresso sit too long before saving them. maybe he let them burn on purpose just to see the face you made. but alas, you hadn't even put the metal straw to your lips. he wondered why you even ordered a coffee if you weren’t going to reap the benefit.

joshua spotted him leaning against the counter as he came out of the kitchen and laughed, setting down the freshly washed milk pitchers. “ask them out.”

he stood up straight. “why?”

“why not? you clearly like them.”

“i really don’t,” jeonghan laughed. “you’re crazy for thinking i do.”

joshua rolled his eyes. “no one spends as much time as you do staring at another person if they don’t find them at least a little attractive. have you ever even talked to them? outside of taking their order?”

he hesitated. “no?”

“so what if they’re actually really wonderful and you have a lot in common?”

“as if.”

“wow,” joshua said, leaning against the counter. “i can’t believe yoon jeonghan is afraid to talk to his crush.”

jeonghan shoved his friend's shoulder, giving him a look. “absolutely not. i'm 99% sure they're a pretentious asshole.”

he crossed his arms. “what does that make you?”

“shut up.”

“whatever, han. i’m just saying it’s kind of pretentious to hate someone solely because they don’t smile wide enough for you when they’re saying thanks.”

“it’s not that hard!” jeonghan said, maybe a little too loud. “i don’t wanna smile either, shua! but i do it! so can they!!”

joshua laughed. “lower your voice and go say hi, you freak.”

much to his chagrin, jeonghan got shoved towards your spot in the cafe with the front of the tables needing to get wiped down. he looked at joshua and seokmin with a furrowed brow as he wrung the towel, both of them giving him thumbs ups with wide grins. begrudgingly, he slowly made his way over to you.

“hey,” jeonghan said, doing his best to project something other than the absolute turmoil going on inside his head. you looked up from your textbook, pulling the earbud out of your ear. “why don’t you drink the coffee?”

you furrowed your brow and looked at your untouched americano. “i- uh, what?”

“you never drink the coffee,” he repeated, nodding at the glass. “why do you get it anyways?”

you blinked up at him. “are you offended that i’m not drinking your coffee?”

he almost laughed at the look of disbelief you were giving him. “no, i just don’t get why you waste the money here if you don’t even need the caffeine.”

“it’s cheaper to buy an americano than it is to rent a stall at a study cafe,” you said, habitually hitting save on your notes document. “why are you so worried about me, yoon jeonghan?”

he faltered, surprised. “you know me?”

“nametag,” you didn't miss a beat, pointing at his chest and giggling. “do you know me?”

jeonghan’s lip twitched, feeling almost embarrassed by not thinking of his own nametag, and definitely not an involuntary reaction to seeing you smile for the first time. “uh, yeah. we have a class together,” he said as casually as possible as he folded the washcloth in his hands. “visual culture.”

you nodded, looking into space for a moment. “hmm. weren’t you also in child psych with professor moon last winter?”

he blinked back at you. “yeah? you were in that class?”

you nodded, holding in a laugh. “yeah, yoon jeonghan. i was. head in the clouds?”

for some reason, the way you said his full name made his ears heat up. “maybe you were easy to forget,” he said dismissively, even though you both knew that wasn't the case. “isn’t it better to study in a library? that one’s free.”

“there’s never any open tables at the library,” you said, unfurling your legs and sitting straight, textbook in your lap. “and the chairs are uncomfortable, unlike this armchair. and people usually don’t bother me here.”

jeonghan sighed. “well, if you’re insistent on going to a cafe, there’s one down the street with a better espresso bean and it’s less busy. less people to bother you and a better tasting americano that you won’t drink.”

you cocked your head, closing your laptop. “is that an invitation?”

and for the first time, you saw jeonghan stutter. “n-no? just a suggestion. i think it’s cheaper, too-”

“don’t you work here?” you asked, eyes shining. “shouldn’t you be happy i’m wasting my money here?”

he eyed you, beginning to turn his body to leave the conversation. “do whatever you want. i’m not your dad.”

you grinned, leaning forward in your chair. “are you busy after class tomorrow?”

“why?”

“i need you to show me where this cafe is.”

jeonghan sighed. “can’t you just look it up? cafe nomu.” he wrote the characters with his finger in the air. “no-mu. use naver.”

“i get lost easily,” you said, standing up. jeonghan wondered if you were telling the truth. “we can go together?”

jeonghan watched you pack up your things, confused. “why?”

you paused, looking at him. “why not?”

he was getting real sick of people asking him why not.

“did i drive you away?” he asked instead, nodding at your now packed bag.

“no, i was headed out soon anyways.” you swung the bag over your shoulder and picked up the untouched americano. “do you want this?”

jeonghan couldn’t help but scoff as you handed him the glass that had been the subject of his staring all afternoon. “you can't be serious.”

you grinned and patted his shoulder. “i’m y/n, by the way. i’ll see you in class?”

he squinted at you as you walked away, suddenly confused by the quick succession of questions you had thrown back and forth. you were cute, sure, and his distaste for you was misplaced, perhaps, but he couldn't help the annoyance that bubbled up in him as you sauntered out of the cafe like you had won a debate. he walked back to the counter and set down the americano, an excited seokmin waiting for him.

“so?” he grabbed the glass and dumped it in the sink behind the counter. “how’d it go?”

jeonghan looked at the door you had left out of. “i think i just got asked out.”

“what?” seokmin’s hands made fists in front of him while he grinned. “y/n did? are you serious? you said yes, right?”

“not really,” he replied, looking back at the younger and exhaling deeply. “but i don’t think i can avoid it.”

you had known of yoon jeonghan for a while. a class here and there, a few mutual friends, and of course at the cafe. but the night you learned his name really stuck out to you, when he had been singing at a karaoke bar right after finals last quarter.

it was common to celebrate the end of finals week with partying and drinking, and your friends had invited you out to barhop until the sun came up. you started at a dance club, had way too much rum at a hula themed place, took tequila shots at a gay bar, then landed at a karaoke bar with a can of beer in your fist and a grin on your face. your friends liked to sing, so you had fun encouraging them to get on the slightly raised stage and show their chops. 

“no, no, no,” mingyu said, grabbing your hands as you tried to push him towards the dj. “no way, i recognize the names on the list. there’s real singers here.”

you looked at the screen that displayed the queue. “what do you mean? who?”

“that guy,” mingyu said, pointing at the screen easily, despite you having to crane your neck to even view it. “no way. he’s in jihoon’s band, i’m not following that guy.”

“hangguk’s angel yoon jeonghan,” you read, squinting. “sounds like a pretentious asshole.”

mingyu laughed. “wait til you hear his voice, you’ll see how he got the name.”

"y/n's right," jun interjected, leaning heavily against the standing table your quad squad had claimed, pouring more soju for himself and whoever would claim the other glass. "he is a pretentious asshole."

you pointed at him, brows raised at mingyu. "jun is never wrong."

mingyu rolled his eyes. "pretentious assholes can still sound like angels."

“where the fuck have you been,” you asked, startled by your third and final friend suddenly appearing beside you.

“around,” vernon said, sipping at the nondescript brown liquid in his glass through a bright pink straw. he laughed when you quirked an eyebrow at him. “soonyoung’s here with his posse, he caught me while i was getting another drink.”

“see!” mingyu shook your shoulder, nearly choking after downing jun’s companion shot. “i told you! jihoon’s band.”

you whacked his bicep. “who cares? just go queue a rap song or something, you pussy.”

the singers cycled through and you cheered on many of your fellow drunk university students as they sang with no remorse. jun dragged you onto the tiny dancefloor and forced you to help him hype up soonyoung - his dance team captain - as he screamed along to hurricane. then one of vernon's friends performed a near flawless rendition of shake it by sistar after yelling something about bringing the summer to this cold winter night, earning him a cheering and dancing crowd, and you had known far more of the choreo than you had thought. mingyu was whooping and hollering at you playfully every time you threw your ass out to the song, and he only got louder when jun and vernon did their best to follow along with you, and you had almost forgotten about the name that everyone insisted was to be feared.

“that guy?” you asked, the self-proclaimed angel stepping onto the stage. you recognized him immediately. “that’s my barista.”

mingyu made a noise that almost resembled whistling, if he had been capable of doing so. “i should start studying with you next quarter.”

and when he sang, it clicked. despite the tonal difference, you couldn't help but become enthralled by his voice. gyu was right. pretentious assholes could still sound like angels, and perhaps that was by design.

his voice drifted through your head again when you noticed him in your visual culture class, seated and giggling at his phone on the first day of the quarter. 

"you have another class with him?" mingyu groaned a week later, walking beside you. "why you? why aren’t there hot guys in my major?"

"because pre-med kids are too busy to be hot."

he gave you a look. "damn, okay. like, you're not wrong, but damn."

you rolled your eyes. "don't act like you don't love being the pre-med heartthrob. you would be pissed if you had competition."

"anyways, are you gonna ask him out?"

you pause at the stop light to wait for your turn to cross, turning towards him. "why would i do that?"

“because he’s hangguk’s angel yoon jeong-honey voice,” mingyu said, moving his head as he dramatically pronounced each syllable in your face. “if you’re not already in love with him, you will be soon, and it sounds like fate's trying to bring you together. didn’t you say he’s your barista?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, and his americanos suck now. i don’t even drink it when he makes them anymore.”

he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. “what the hell? why do you still go there, then?”

you pouted. “it’s quiet and there’s a comfy armchair.”

weeks passed, and you continued to spot jeonghan in your class when you arrived, hearing the faint sound of his singing voice in your head. when he took your order at the cafe, he had a vague snottiness to his voice, and while you absolutely believed that this was the same person as the one you saw sing a soft love ballad with a sobering intensity at two in the morning, you still struggled to connect it to the one you watched run off the stage, immediately curling into himself and laughing with his friends in embarrassment.

you became more and more fascinated by yoon jeonghan as time passed, but his americanos continued to suck. so when he suggested a cafe with better espresso, you lit up. and when he got flustered, letting down his guard unintentionally, you lit up even more. that was the drunk, embarrassed boy you had seen, pink faced and giggling as he hid behind his friends.

jeonghan sat in his usual seat in class, anxiously glancing up at the door every time a group of people entered the lecture hall. when you arrived, your usual minute before the turn of the hour, he rubbed his palms against his sweats. the sweats that he had worn with the specific intention of making sure you didn't think he was trying too hard to look nice around you. despite that fact, part of him still felt annoyed that you were also dressed down, swimming in a hoodie several sizes too big for you. he tried to make sense of the sudden nerves he had, but not once did he consider they were because he thought you were disgustingly adorable.

instead of taking your usual spot, you marched right up to jeonghan’s table and grinned. “is this seat taken?”

he blinked at you. “yes.”

you laughed and slid into the seat beside him anyways, ignoring the dagger stare from a girl across the room that usually sat beside jeonghan silently. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“how do you expect me to react? you’ve never even smiled at me before yesterday.”

shrugging, you put your bag on the table and leaned back in your seat, assuming your usual position for this particular class. “you didn’t deserve it before yesterday.”

jeonghan wanted to argue with you, but the professor cleared his throat and introduced the subject of the lecture.

after only ten minutes, jeonghan could have sworn he heard you snoring. he poked your shoulder with his pen.

you looked over at him, eyebrow quirked. you mouthed a “what” at him.

he exhaled suddenly, mouth forming a vague smile more in disbelief than from being entertained. he seemed annoyed with you, despite the fact that he was the one interrupting your allocated meditation time. he leaned forward, turning his body towards you and spoke in a hushed tone. “how can you do that every day and still be top of the class?”

you mirrored his body language, leaning forward over the desk and resting your cheek on a fist, speaking in the same hushed tone. “visual culture is subjective. as long as you understand the concept; i-e, how we as humans visually design the world around us and how that becomes an important aspect of our place in nature, in the universe, in existence, etcetera; then you can write about literally anything. my last essay was about skate parks. the more opinionated the essay, the better score you get.” you pointed a finger at the man speaking at the front of the class. “i watched the prof’s ted talk before the quarter started - every lecture is just a regurgitation of the same concepts. it’s an easy a, as long as you have strong opinions.”

jeonghan stared at you for what felt like an eternity. “you do seem like you have strong opinions.”

“and you don’t, yoon jeonghan?”

he supposed he couldn’t argue with that, but it still frustrated him to no end that you had found some kind of loophole that he had missed. you gamed the system better than he could, and he had been stuck pouring over his friend’s notes from the previous quarter and bullshitting some essays about architecture that he didn't give a shit about. and so, instead of spending his whole class stewing like he normally did, he decided to waste no time adopting your approach, pulling his sweatshirt hood over his head and catching up on some missed sleep. when he woke up again, it was to your prodding finger.

“what time is it,” he said immediately, squinting at his surroundings. he suddenly remembered he was in class as he saw fellow students packing up their things and filing out. he looked at you, blinking at your grinning face.

“time for coffee,” you said, tugging on the drawstrings of the light blue hoodie he wore. “did you have any sweet dreams?”

jeonghan shoved his blank notebook into the tote bag he used for classes and stood. “of course not.”

“i did,” you said, throwing your bag over your shoulder and following him down the hall steps. “i dreamt you paid at the cafe.”

he turned, eyeing your shiteating grin from behind his hood. “yeah, keep dreaming.”

“worth a shot,” you said, trotting down beside him. “so, what’s your major, yoon jeonghan?”

he rolled his eyes, almost forgetting about your habit of calling him by his full name. “do you really care?”

“what else are we gonna talk about, my drinking problem?”

despite himself, jeonghan laughed, looking over at you as you left the lecture hall. “maybe! how bad is it?”

you grinned, feeling successful from making him break his serious persona. “wouldn’t you like to know.”

he clicked his tongue, pushing open the doors of the social studies building. “no fun.”

“you’ll have to invite me to a bar next time,” you said, following after him out the door into the sunshine that cascaded over the quad. it was a beautiful spring day, but a bit chilly, and you shoved your hands into your sweatshirt pocket.

“hmm,” jeonghan said, letting his blue hood fall off his head as he stretched in the sun. “i only really go to one bar.”

you watched him bask for a moment, wondering how many sides of him you had yet to see. his hair was dark, but the lighter chocolate tones reflected in the sun. “bet i can guess which one.”

jeonghan paused on the sidewalk, making you walk ahead of him a couple steps before you turned towards him questioningly. “okay, yeah. guess. you won’t get it.”

you size him up a moment, taking his words as a challenge. “if i guess right, you buy coffee?”

he exhaled, an amused smile on his face. “why are you so obsessed with me buying you coffee?”

“it tastes better free.”

“okay, fine. but if you’re wrong, you buy.”

you groaned. “do you know how many bars are in this city? that doesn’t seem fair.”

jeonghan resumed walking, gesturing for you to guess. “i’ll give you three tries.”

you chewed your cheek, trying to conceal your sly grin. “okay, three tries. deal?”

he nodded. you made it way too easy for him to win. “deal.”

“let me think.” jeonghan watched your feet fall easily into step beside him. “what bar has a stupid gimmick you would be into... pie bar?”

he shook his head, almost laughing at your teasing. “i’ve been there before, but it's not really my thing.”

you exhaled sharply. “shouldn’t that count for a stick of gum or something?” jeonghan laughed, insisting that this was an all or nothing situation. “then i give up.”

“you can’t give up!” jeonghan said. “you said deal. no going back.”

“fine," you pouted. "why can't i remember any bar names? uhh, r place?”

he stopped. “the gay club?”

you stopped, looking at him expectantly. “well?”

jeonghan laughed as he walked again. “no, not r place. jesus. you have one last chance. i’m really excited to order something expensive today.”

you chewed your cheek. “where would someone like yoon jeonghan go to drink… hanguk’s angel yoon jeonghan…”

he stopped in his tracks. “what did you just say?”

you tapped on your chin with a finger, arms crossed. “yoon jeong-honey voice… where would someone like him go? maybe… a karaoke bar?”

“hey, hey-” jeonghan pointed at you accusingly. “are you serious? you’ve seen me?”

“hmm,” you continued, laughing as you avoided his gaze. “oh, i know! the rockbox!”

“yah!” jeonghan was laughing, pointing at you in disbelief. “what the hell! this isn’t fair!”

“you said deal, no going back.” you grinned in victory. “wow, maybe i’ll order something expensive. i can’t believe i won.”

jeonghan’s tongue ran over his teeth as he watched you giggle and happily trot ahead of him. “fine, fine. you win. when did you see me there?”

“after winter finals,” you said, cheesing. “i was there with friends and you sang.”

he tutted. “damn. did i just miss you or did you not sing?”

“i don’t sing,” you said, smiling as he continued walking with you. “my friends do, though. and i was forced to be in soonyoung’s hype squad for hurricane.”

jeonghan clapped suddenly, remembering in his perhaps too drunk stupor that seungcheol had pointed you out, calling you “the cutie that keeps looking at him.” he had, admittedly, checked you out, despite the fact that he had been too embarrassed by his too-serious song to go and talk to you, and he had thought you looked familiar. “oh my god! yes! i did see you! how do you know soonyoung?”

“mutual friends,” you said. “chwe hansol?

he nodded. “we’ve met once, i think. were you there with junhui?”

“yeah, actually,” you said, remembering the opinion of jeonghan your friend had volunteered up for you. “how do you know him?”

“i haven’t talked to him a lot directly, but i know both his roommates pretty well,” jeonghan said. "we do music together.”

“ah, yes,” you nodded in recollection, but refusing to acknowledge how insanely pretentious it was of him to say something like we do music together. “jihoon’s unnamed but immensely prolific band.”

he rolled his eyes. “why is it jihoon’s band? why can’t it be jeonghan’s band?”

“don’t ask me,” you said, putting up hands in innocence. “i didn’t even know it existed until that night. mingyu wouldn’t shut up about it.”

the name sounded familiar to jeonghan, but he moved on as the two of you reached a stop light. “do you go there a lot? or was that a one time thing?”

you eyed him. “this is starting to sound like an invitation, hannie.”

he didn’t comment on the nickname, despite the weird way his arms tingled at it. “you should learn what an invitation actually sounds like. you tend to assume a lot.”

you laughed heartily, and jeonghan ignored the way his stomach flitted while you started to cross the street. “call it wishful thinking, but i think i get you, yoon jeonghan.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean?”

you never answered his question, but grinned instead, which gave jeonghan a sense of unease and a touch of curiosity. as he led you to cafe nomu, he caught himself smiling. laughing. enjoying your company and conversation.

maybe shua hadn’t been completely off base.

by the time jeonghan had realized that his feelings towards you might have evolved from vague malice into something more akin to genuine interest, he was pushing open the door to the cafe for you and mentally double checking that he had put on deodorant that morning, cursing his inability to control his own nerves. ah, he thought. that explained the weird feeling he got waiting for you in class, too. and why he got flustered the day before at his work. he only snapped out of his crowded mind when he heard you ordering an iced americano.

“and for you?”

jeonghan blinked at you, then at the barista that was addressing him. “make that two.”

“thank you for the coffee,” you said, pressing your hands together as he inserted his card.

he waved you off, chuckling, but kept his eyes as far from yours as he could. “a deal is a deal.”

you looked around the quiet cafe, quickly scoping out the seat options as jeonghan accepted the buzzer for your order. he thought it was a little silly, considering the two of you were half of the customers in the cafe currently, but said nothing as he turned it over in his fingers, standing next to you.

“there?” you asked, pointing at a table by a window.

jeonghan bit his cheek, thinking about how joshua would likely be walking down this street to go to his shift, if he had one. “yeah, wherever.”

you were already on your way to the seat when he responded, and he followed, dropping his bag off his shoulder to hang on the hook under the table.

“i thought you were going to get something expensive,” he teased, sitting across from you.

laughing lightly, you pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket and set it on the table. “you said the espresso was good, i wanted to try it.”

“don’t you not like coffee?” jeonghan asked, squinting at you.

“i love coffee,” you said, quirking an eyebrow.

“then why don’t you drink the americanos i make?”

he was leaning forward, staring at you, fingers folding over each other on the table. you pouted, avoiding his eyes suddenly. “no reason.”

leaning back again, he kept a wary eye on you. “that’s convincing.”

“good, it’s the truth.”

jeonghan decided to put a pin in that interrogation in favor of asking you your major.

you laughed again, making a small smile appear on his face. "communications," you answered, despite thinking of how he denied the same question from you earlier.

he let out a low "wah" and cocked his head. "what's up with that? same major."

"really?" you leaned over the table. "what year are you?"

"third."

you put a peace sign next to your eye like you were posing for a photo. "second."

you couldn't help but giggle at the "pfft" that spilled out of jeonghan's lips as he laughed at you, muttering a "really" under his breath at your pose. he was running a hand through his extremely soft and fluffy looking hair when the buzzer went off, and you blinked yourself awake from your trance to nod after he said he would go get the drinks. 

admitting to it was the last thing you wanted, but you couldn’t help but hear mingyu’s voice rattling around your head, telling you that you would fall for jeonghan eventually. you had once thought he was completely up his own ass, but you kept getting glimpses of this really cute, really sweet version of him, and it made you want to get to know him better. additionally, it was getting harder to find people that would happily play along with your teasing, and he had no qualms teasing you right back.

when he returned with the americanos, you pressed your hands together in another thank you before taking a sip. he slid back into his seat and looked at you expectantly. "well? what do you think?"

you paused a moment, appraising the flavor. "delicious. thank you."

after he sipped at his own, he nodded. "the beans here are really good. balanced. i wish i could convince my boss to source better stuff."

you watched him sip again, letting out a praise under his breath. you sighed. "i have a confession."

his eyebrows quirked at you, and he did his best to not show the way his stomach flipped. "what kind?"

"i don't drink your americanos because they're shit."

there was silence as he processed your words, and you wondered if you had royally fucked up by saying something. suddenly, he was laughing, and you stared at him in shock as he calmed down. "oh my god, yeah, they are."

"wait, you know?"

"i-" jeonghan paused, rubbing his face, still laughing. "god, this is so stupid. i burn your shots."

your jaw dropped open, but a smile creeped across your face as you understood. "wait, on purpose?"

"you never smile!" he attempted to explain himself with a bit too much enthusiasm, finding his own pettiness ridiculous in hindsight. "not even when i smiled at you. i had a grudge. i'm sorry."

you were sipping your non-burnt americano with a sly look on your face. you wanted to be mad at the wasted money on countless gross americanos, but somehow, you couldn't be. "do you hold grudges against everyone or am i just lucky?"

"uh, depends," jeonghan said, crossing his arms and thinking. "when the prof that failed my roommate comes in, i burn his shots, too. i think he might like it that way, though, because he's always really nice to me."

you almost snorted. "well, you owe me a lot of coffee."

he nodded and sighed, resigning to his fate. "when you come in, your coffee's on me. and i won't burn it this time."

you pouted a second, and jeonghan barely caught it, but he thought the expression was far too cute. "i was hoping you would invite me out again."

"again?" he asked, letting a few 'ha's fall from his lips in quick succession. "you mean for the first time?"

you gestured to the cafe you sat in. "was this not your idea?"

he rolled his eyes. "you invited yourself out and held me hostage."

"does that mean you have stockholms?"

he laughed at the diagnosis, remembering the class you claimed you had both taken the year before. "you're a very charming captor."

you smiled at the compliment, despite the sinister implication.

the next time you saw jeonghan, it was saturday. you had rolled out of bed far earlier than you had intended to when you had fallen asleep at 4 am after a very drunk and extremely conflict heavy game of uno with the guys. you winced at the sunlight streaming through your shitty dorm blinds, fumbling your way to the water dispenser on your desk to rehydrate.

you stared at your roommate's empty bed, remembering they had said they worked early shifts this weekend as you brushed your teeth, and you wondered how they had dealt with you stumbling into the dorm in the wee hours of the day.

you almost gagged on your toothbrush. an empty room on a saturday morning with too little sleep and a nasty hangover, you thought. bad decisions could never be made under these circumstances.

"does jeonghan's cafe do breakfast sandwiches?" you thought aloud with a mouth full of toothpaste, leaning over the sink to spit. you kind of remembered seeing them on the menu, though you never thought to get anything beyond the occasional muffin. maybe today was the day.

after washing your face and cleaning up your hair a bit, you had to dig in your clothes to find your favorite pair of black sweats and a shirt to tuck in. you last minute decided to bring your good headphones, just in case hanguk's angel wasn't there to bug, and ran out the door with your wallet and phone, a pair of sunglasses shoved onto your face.

the walk to his cafe is short from the dorms you lived in, which was another reason you liked it there. it was warmer than it had been during the week, and you watched a big muscular dog running alongside its owner. before long, you were tugging open the door, seeing no line. you grinned at how lucky you were as you pulled your headphones down to your neck.

"yoon jeonghan! you are working!"

he seemed startled by your voice, his shoulders raising slightly as he turned towards the door. "oh, what the hell? what are you doing here at 9:30 on a saturday?"

you pouted, walking up to the counter and tugging off your sunglasses. "are you not happy to see me?"

his laugh was genuine and completely out of his control. "sure i am. nice eyebags."

that, you noted, was the first time jeonghan had ever greeted you with a smile, and it seemed appropriate that it was paired with an insult. "thanks, i'm violently hungover right now." you said, noticing your best friend's roommate standing further back behind the counter, pretty obviously pretending to not be listening to you.

"do you wanna redeem a free americano?" he asked, poking at the touchscreen register.

you hummed, crossing your arms and staring at the menu board. "not today, i wanna try a latte. something tasty, and something for breakfast. what do you think?"

jeonghan stared at you, and you stared back, a small smile on your face. he blinked. "have you ever tried lavender?"

"lavender?" you shook your head, genuinely surprised. "is that a good flavor?"

he nodded, looking down at the screen and adding items to your order. "we have this seasonal syrup that we make in house," he said. "it's my favorite one of the year. honey, lavender, and vanilla bean. big one?"

you blinked at the cup sizes, trying to remember how many bottles of soju you had bought the night before, and subsequently how much money was left in your account. "uh, yeah."

"will you be offended if i give you a vegetarian sandwich? it's the best one."

you cocked your head. "i mean, if it's the best one…"

jeonghan smiled slightly, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. "it's the best one. and it's my secret hangover cure."

you noticed his card too late. "hey, what are you doing?"

he quirked an eyebrow at you. "buying your coffee. like i said i would."

"that was way more than an americano."

"and i've burned way more than an americano," jeonghan reminded you. "and if you don't accept that, i'm buying you breakfast as a peace offering."

your eyebrows raised. "a peace offering?" 

he avoided your gaze. "i've decided you're not a pretentious asshole."

you laughed at his word choice, and how it mirrored your own. "i mean, i can be kind of pretentious sometimes. and a major asshole a lot of the time."

jeonghan grinned. "me too."

he washed his hands and passed along the sandwich order to his coworker as he moved to the espresso machine, briefly explaining to you that he was completely useless with food as soon as a heat source becomes involved, but assured you that seokmin was a master with a turbochef, and that your sandwich was in the best hands.

you giggled, watching his hands as he found a squeeze bottle and shot the contents into a glass. "i trust you."

his eyes flicked to you briefly, and you leaned against the drink pickup counter, squinting at the syrup. he held the glass that would soon be your drink up for you. "see the specs? real vanilla."

you hummed. "it smells good."

"it tastes like sunshine, i swear to god."

your eyes followed his hands as he expertly filled and packed the portafilter with fresh grounds. he felt you watching him, and did his best to suppress the itch to fumble. you watched him not burn your shots, stirring them with the syrup and pouring milk from a jug. he added ice, put a metal straw in the tall glass, then placed it on the counter in front of you.

you made sure to smile when you told him thank you, and jeonghan was pretty sure he would have collapsed from how cute he found you if he had slightly less resolve. 

"veggie sando for… y/n?" seokmin announced to the cafe, eyes creasing into a laugh as he appeared with a plate.

you gave seokmin a nervous smile. "sorry for staying over so late. i didn't know you worked this morning."

jeonghan looked between you suspiciously as seokmin assured you it was fine, claiming he was knocked out by midnight and didn't even know when you left. who did seokmin live with again? jeonghan chewed on his cheek as he put your drink and sandwich on a tray.

your eyes flicked over to the front counter as a few customers entered the cafe, seokmin already heading over to greet them and begin the order. you tried not to let your disappointment show when you told jeonghan you should probably let him get back to work. he tried to not let his show, either, when he nodded in agreement. neither of you did a great job.

"someone's clocking on in half an hour, i can take a break then. don't leave?"

his almost pleading tone made your lip twitch upward. "don't act so clingy, hannie."

he grinned, then stopped you before you picked up the tray. "first- hang on," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it, quickly going to the keypad as he looked over his shoulder at the customers. "give me your number."

your eyes met his briefly as you took the phone, quickly punching in your digits and tapping to add yourself to his contacts. he smiled at the profile name - "americano" - as you picked up your tray and headed to your favorite armchair. even as he was making other drinks and serving other customers, he couldn't take his eyes off you, sitting in your armchair with your headphones on. it had only been two days since he saw you last, but he hadn't thought of anything but you the entire time. he had almost considered asking shua to swap shifts with him so he could have a chance of seeing you the day before, but he knew his coworker would refuse to take the saturday opening shift. he spent his whole afternoon off sitting on the couch in his apartment, staring at the back of his roommate's chair, trying to figure out why he didn't ask for your number.

"hey," jihoon said, and jeonghan had only then noticed that his roommate had spun his tall cushioned chair around to look back at him. "i said, do you know when seungcheol invited people around tomorrow?"

jeonghan stared at him for a second, then sighed dramatically, rubbing his eye. 

"woah," the younger laughed and leaned back in his seat. "who'd you sleep with last night? i need to warn them you're crazy."

"no one," jeonghan pouted. "what the hell? i'm not crazy."

"hyung, i say this with the most respect i can," he said, leaning forward. "you're batshit, especially when you catch feelings for a one night stand."

"ugh, whatever," jeonghan pushed the pillow off his lap and ran a hand through his hair. "we didn't even do anything."

jihoon squinted at him a moment. "okay, hang on, i feel like our definitions of not doing anything are different."

he rolled his eyes. "we didn't do anything," he repeated, standing from the couch and walking over to the kitchen to get water. "like, nothing. we didn't even touch each other. not once."

jihoon looked around, trying to understand what he meant. "i'm confused. you didn't touch your one night stand?"

"it wasn't a one night stand!" jeonghan threw a dagger glare at the other before he drank his water, muttering a "really" beneath his breath.

jihoon's face didn't change. "so… you went on a date?"

jeonghan swallowed the water hard, putting the glass down on the counter and leaning against it. "kinda."

"you are really not making this easy for me at all."

"we got coffee," he said finally. "we have a class together, and we made a stupid bet over who would pay, and they fucking tricked me, so i had to pay for it and we talked for, like, a stupid long time, and i think i actually really…" he exhaled, both hands rubbing his face. "i think i really like them."

jihoon whistled. "i just wanna say before the moment passes that it is incredibly on brand for you to fall for someone because they conned you into buying them coffee."

jeonghan glared at the younger, but he couldn't argue. "we got coffee and talked and then they just…" his palms faced the sky as he gestured, shoulders raised. "they just left. i didn't even get their number."

"okay, and?" jihoon swivelled back and forth in his chair. "you have a class together. you'll literally see them next week."

he groaned, pressing his forehead against the fridge. "but i wanna see them now."

and now, he was seeing you. much sooner than he had expected, yet not soon enough. the saturday morning rush began to pick up, and even when an additional barista arrived, jeonghan wondered if he would actually be able to slip away for a break.

"go ahead," seokmin said, grabbing the steamed milk pitcher from his hand. "me and hyejoo can handle it for a minute."

jeonghan looked at the shrinking line and nodded, quickly pulling off his apron as he walked around the counter. he knew he didn't have a lot of time, and pulling up a chair seemed silly, so he instead just squatted and folded his arms over the arm of your favorite seat.

you looked up from your phone at the motion, pulling your headphones off and grinning. "hey! the drink is delicious and extremely not burnt."

he smiled, noticing it was almost gone. "i'm glad! it's still busy, so i can't really take a proper break, but i wanted to ask you something."

you squinted at him. "what kind of something?"

"do you have plans tonight?"

"depends," you said, turning your body to face him better as you sucked on your cheek. "what's going on?"

jeonghan exhaled, amused. "my roommate is having people over for a few drinks or something, it'd be cool if you came by?"

you looked at a light, gauging the state of your hangover. your voice almost cracked when you asked "tonight?"

"you don't have to drink," he said, remembering what you had told him earlier. "and you can, like, bring a friend if you want. i know it's weird that i'm inviting you to my place."

you thought a moment. "don't you live with lee jihoon?"

jeonghan blinked. "uh, yeah?"

"i'll bring a friend," you said, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. you looked back to him and smiled. "text me details?"

jeonghan stood. "yeah, i'll text you," he said, glancing up at the door where more customers were walking in. "fuck, i should go."

you followed his gaze. "i think i'll stick to weekdays. this place gets crazy on the weekends."

"tell me about it." he started to walk back to the counter. "i'll talk to you later?"

you smiled and nodded at him, and you waved enthusiastically at him as you were headed out about ten minutes later.

"i'm still waiting for a text," you teased, peeking over the counter as he made a drink.

he laughed. "i'll get to it when i get to it."

"thanks for the sandwich, seokmin! it was delicious!"

seokmin waved at you with a big grin and you looked back at jeonghan.

"i'll see you tonight?"

he nodded, a smug smile teasing his lips. "yeah, i'll see you tonight."

you didn't show the way your stomach flipped when he made eye contact with you, but you slid your sunglasses back on and put your headphones back on your head, and walked to the rhythm of love songs in the sun on your way to your friend's apartment, a stupid childish giggle threatening to surface the entire time.

"hey, is mingoo around?"

minghao blinked at you, standing at his front door with a smile on your face. "dude, you left like four hours ago. what are you even doing here."

"uh, no, myungho, i left like seven hours ago, get it right." he let you walk past him into the apartment. "is he still asleep?"

"is that actually a question?"

you trotted into mingyu's room, humming along to the song playing through the headphones around your neck as you pulled open his blinds.

"god, what the fuck," his rough voice went behind you. "the hell is wrong with you. go home."

"that's not a very nice way to treat the person that's gonna set you up with your future ex-husband."

mingyu's hair stuck in several different directions and his eyes were still squeezed shut, but he had pushed himself off his pillow enough for you to know you caught his attention. "which one?"

you grinned. "the one with the pretty voice."

"wait," mingyu fumbled with his comforter as he tried to sit up. "wait, hang on. jihoon?" you laughed and nodded as he sniffed noisily. "he is not my future ex-husband, y/n. he's it. he's the one that's gonna make an honest woman out of me."

"well, lady, get ready to be honest, because i got an invite to a kickback at his apartment tonight and i snagged a plus one."

he squinted at you. "what's the catch?"

you rolled your eyes. "there isn't always a catch. maybe i'm just trying to be nice."

"yeah, uh huh." mingyu flopped back onto his bed, rubbing his eyes. "why didn't you just text me or something? it's so early."

"it's like, barely morning."

"it's ten."

you exhaled. "it's 11:17, asshole. are you going with me or not?"

mingyu groaned and flopped around, his head aching from the drinks that had stopped too recently. "when?"

"uhh," you stalled as you checked your phone. no new messages. "not sure yet. i'm waiting on a text."

he squinted at you. "who's texting you? soonyoung?"

you shrugged. "sure."

"oh my god, it's jeonghan, isn't it?"

"whaaaaaat?" you deadpanned, walking over to mingyu's bed to sit on the edge, staring at your phone. "why would i be waiting on a text from that loser?"

"i knew you were acting stupid yesterday for a reason," he accused. "and you asked jun what his deal was. you like him, don't you? what did he do? did he corner you?"

"absolutely not," you said, sighing and throwing your phone down on his bed, slightly offended by him saying you were acting stupid but truly not being able to remember if he was wrong. "i cornered him, at his workplace, no less. then i made him buy me coffee. then i showed up to his workplace, again, incredibly hungover, and he still asked for my number."

mingyu's lips formed a pout as he hummed, rubbing his eye again. "never would have pegged jeonghan as the simping type, but sure."

"shut up," you laughed, and mingyu whined about whether or not you had washed your hands when you plopped your palm against his face. he pushed your wrists away. "do you still have that bottle of white wine?"

"you mean the one hao refuses to drink even though i spent good money on it for his fucking birthday? yeah, why?"

you grabbed your phone again, despite it not vibrating. "it'd probably make a good first impression if you bring a nice bottle to the kickback you were last minute invited to. i bet jihoon will be so impressed by your manners."

mingyu blinked heavily. "you're devious. what about you?"

"i don't need a good first impression," you said. "i already made an awful one and he still likes me."

he sighed. "you always have been a charming dickhead."

you grinned at your best friend. "thanks, babe."

mingyu groaned against his palms. "god, fuck, i was supposed to study for my exam today."

you clicked your tongue. "that sucks dick."

"you suck dick."

you pouted out your lips when you got a text from an unknown number. "i'm trying."

you hadn't fully decided yet how you were going to make sure jeonghan really liked you, especially after jun regaled his "disgusting sexcapades," as he described them. you took his words with a grain of salt, considering the guy had an extremely low opinion of him from the get go, but either way, could you really blame jeonghan for putting his incredibly good looks and charm to use?

you, however, found flings incredibly uninteresting. most of the men that went after you were dull at best, and definitely would have fallen for any stupid prank you had played on them. with jeonghan, though, there was a challenge. there was always the chance he would out-trick you. it was new and exciting. playing with people, you decided, was only fun when there were some stakes involved.

inviting you to have drinks at his place seemed like such a transparent ploy to get laid, but you couldn't help but expect more from him. something told you he knew that you wouldn't be that easy, and you wondered what his game was.

i think i'm here >

which apartment was it? >

you definitely could have scrolled up in your conversation with jeonghan to check, especially since mingyu was complaining next to you on the street outside the apartment building, but you preferred the power move of asking again. you hadn't considered, though, that jeonghan was absolutely the type to know exactly what you were trying as soon as he saw the notification and make you wait. you squinted at the window that clearly had a party going on inside of it, willing the boy to respond.

"bro, it's apartment 2-b. soonyoung says he's 'the b in 2-b' like, every chance he gets. let's just go up."

"hang on, i'm plotting," you said, putting up a finger and scrolling through your contacts.

mingyu groaned as you put the phone to your ear, pressing the cold wine bottle against his eye. "you are the most annoying person i've ever met."

"yet you ask me to hang out constantly."

mingyu glared at you with his uncovered eye. "i also watch a lot of shit television, so don't take my taste as gospel."

inside, soonyoung patted down his pockets when he heard his ringtone, then looked at the kitchen counter where he had left it when he was making drinks. he grinned wide when he saw the contact info and practically yelled when he answered the phone. "y/n! please tell me you're finally coming over?"

jeonghan heard your name, his head whipping towards the sound. he stared at soonyoung, phone to his ear as he laughed into it, and he exhaled when he realized what you had done. he looked down at the ignored notification on his phone, his thought process being that you would call as it became more urgent.

and you had, just not him. he cursed under his breath. you were always one step ahead.

"yeah, second floor! come on up, i'll meet you at the stairs!"

jeonghan watched soonyoung shove his feet into a pair of slides and exit the apartment, then quickly downed the rest of his drink. he was gonna need an excuse to ask if you wanted one.

you followed soonyoung down the hall as he excitedly chattered about how he didn't know you were coming.

mingyu laughed. "yeah, we didn't either. y/n got an invite from jeonghan this morning."

"jeonghan?" soonyoung looked at you. "i didn't know you knew each other."

"i enjoy being a mystery," you said, checking quickly to see if your message had been seen yet.

soonyoung couldn't help but laugh at the idea of you and his roommate, especially with a few drinks in him. "you definitely suit each other."

jeonghan hadn't lied when he said people were coming over for drinks, but he had definitely made it seem much smaller than it was. the living area had enough people that you didn't want to bother counting, but probably somewhere in the twenties. there was music playing, but the conversational chatter was still audible over the beat, and people were laughing with each other on just about every surface you could see. you noticed jihoon by the kitchen counter as you were taking off your shoes, and grabbed mingyu's arm to face him towards you.

"jesus, fuck," he stumbled over his own shoes. "why do i hang out with you?"

"he's in the kitchen and he's alone," you said, your fingers digging into his bicep. "now's your chance. ask him where you should put the wine."

mingyu peeked over his shoulder, then looked back at you with wide eyes. "are you serious? right now?"

"right now," you reassured. "you got this, big guy. you're hot, smart, and tall. say you like his music and blow his mind."

he exhaled, his lips forming an o, and shook his hand nervously. "okay. okay. thank you. i love you. i'm sorry i ever called you annoying."

you laughed, smacking his arm. "love you too, goo."

he shut his eyes and spun, walking towards the boy of his affections. you watched him for a moment, though slyly, as you wandered into the party. you wondered where soonyoung had gone so quickly, then clenched your fist in victory when you saw jihoon get wine glasses out of a cupboard and laughed at something mingyu said.

"oh, y/n!" you spun to the familiar voice, spotting jeonghan leaning against a wall casually, half engaged in a conversation. he pushed off it as you closed the short space between you. "you made it! why didn't you tell me you were here?"

"i did," you said, cocking your head at him. "but you probably knew that."

a sideways smile creeped onto his face. "hey, are you drinking tonight? i don't wanna tempt your self proclaimed alcoholism, but i've been sitting on an empty drink for a while, i could make you one too."

you eyed the red cup in his hand. "what's on the menu?"

"paloma," he said, lifting the cup. "but i can make you something else."

you thought for a second, then looked at him. you hadn't had tequila since the night you saw him sing. "i trust your taste."

he tilted his head as he moved, gesturing for you to follow him to the kitchen. you nudged mingyu with your hip as you settled against the counter next to him to watch jeonghan make a drink for you. he looked down at you, then put an arm on your shoulder as he sipped the wine he had brought, and you noticed jihoon had a matching glass. you smiled proudly.

"mingyu?" jeonghan asked, gesturing.

you nodded, then looked up at your best friend. "this is jeonghan," you said, pointing.

mingyu smiled at him. "good luck with this one. jihoon, this is my worst friend, y/n."

"i'm also the reason he's here," you said, leaning forward to direct the speech at boy you were being introduced to. "you're welcome."

jihoon looked at you, mouth parted into an almost smile. his eyes went to jeonghan, remembering their conversation the day before, then to mingyu again, who was covering his eyes with a palm in embarrassment. "this is why they're my worst friend."

jeonghan laughed, pulling your attention back as he popped open a soda with a bottle opener. "so you're like this with everyone?"

"i’m sure i don't know what you mean," you quipped, sliding out from mingyu's arm to grab the bottle and inspect the label. "jah…ritos?"

"jarritos," jeonghan corrected, pronouncing the h sound. "mexican grapefruit soda. it's the best for palomas."

"see, this is why people think you're a prick," you said, putting the bottle back on the counter. "you get fancy soda specifically for your fancy cocktails."

he just laughed at you as he poured tequila from a bottle into two cups of ice. "if i cared what people thought, i would have changed my ways years ago."

you let that marinate for a moment, then decided the two of you were much more similar than you had originally thought. he grabbed the bowl of cut lime wedges that seungcheol had prepared and squeezed two into each cup, and you watched as he topped the drinks with the soda.

"can you handle heat?"

you looked at him. "that's a loaded question."

he laughed again, and you wondered how many palomas he had before you arrived. "i like chili on the lime, but i wanted to be nice and ask before i did it for you, too."

"i'll try anything once."

then you tried it again.

and again.

jeonghan really was charming, you thought. and pretty. and he had a lovely voice.

at some point, soonyoung found you again, just to waggle his eyebrows at jeonghan when he thought you weren't looking, and you got introduced to seungcheol, who you both recognized and were recognized by. jeonghan rolled his eyes and shoved him away when he gave him a look, remembering how he described you at the bar ages ago.

you barely even noticed the time passing, but your drinks kept draining and you kept accepting more, and you wondered if you were really stupid enough to say yes if he asked you to join him in his bedroom tonight. but the more jeonghan talked, the more you were kind of okay with the idea.

"do you wanna get out of here?"

you blinked, chin in your palm and elbow on the counter, face inches from jeonghan's as he put down his cup. "and go where?"

he pouted as he thought. "i could really go for tteokbokki right now."

at that moment, you decided jeonghan really liked you. you grinned. "that sounds so good."

he smiled back at you, and you didn't comment on the way his eyes lingered on your lips, even if you really wanted to. "better tell your chaperone."

you rolled your eyes at the title mingyu had given himself earlier when he was trying to convince you to not take a fourth drink. "don't let his stupid height trick you, he's more of a lightweight than me."

"at least you don't have to worry about him, jihoon would never try anything. the poor guy is so shy, he was probably flustered just when mingyu said hi."

you quirked an eyebrow at him. "does he have to worry about me?"

jeonghan laughed. "if i wanted to get you drunk, i would have poured heavier."

"speaking of," you said, tipping your cup. "this one suspiciously tasted like not tequila."

he stood suddenly, palms on the counter, trying to force down the blush on his ears. "if you're gonna complain about every drink i make you, maybe you should stop asking for them."

you giggled, standing and imitating his stance. "just admit you care about me, yoon jeonghan."

he looked at you, a smile teasing his lips. "only after you admit you're in love with me."

you squinted. "a draw."

he grinned. "tteokbokki?"

[stillness-in-green]

Ahistorical, Absurd, and Unsustainable (Introduction and Part One)

An Examination of the Mass Arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front

INTRODUCTION

The title states my premise here: the breezy way My Hero Academia presents and resolves the mass arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front is ludicrous. If taken as presented and allowed to stand without being further addressed, it serves as a breaking point from which the series will be incredibly hard-pressed to recover. Why, you ask?

From a logistical standpoint, it strains credulity. From an ethical standpoint, it suggests deeply troubling problems with the state of Hero Society. From a thematic standpoint, it unravels whole portions of the narrative’s spine. I’ll be looking at each of these facets in turn to discuss the questions they raise which My Hero Academia has not yet seen fit to answer. Many in fandom don’t seem to be thinking about it too hard, so I’d like to lay out—in exhaustive detail—all the reasons I find this plot element so wildly out of touch with causal reality.

Please note that while they are discussed when relevant, this essay is not principally about the named characters in the League of Villains or the erstwhile high command of the Metahuman Liberation Army. The sorts of consequences Shigaraki Tomura or Re-Destro would and should be facing in a courtroom are orders of magnitude beyond what Random Liberation Warrior X would be, but it’s the mass numbers of Random Liberation Warrior Xs that this essay is most concerned with, as they are the ones most in danger of being swept under a rug and forgotten by the series in its current state.

Further, be advised that this essay in its full form is both very long (about 21K words excluding Sources and Further Reading) and will contain extensive discussion of real-life Japan—comparisons to historical events, minutiae of its legal and carceral systems, and general cultural views on criminality. This will include references to imprisonment, government oppression, and incidents of terrorism both real and in the context of My Hero Academia.

Being as it is about quite a recent event in the series, it will also contain heavy spoilers all the way up through the most recent chapter as of this writing, Chapter 310. It likewise contains spoilers for the spin-off series My Hero Academia: Vigilantes up through Chapter 95.

The essay will be posted in parts on tumblr and in full on AO3. For the tumblr posting, I will provide links to other tumblr posts as I reference them; however, as I would like this to actually show up in the tags, outside links containing my sources and further reading will be provided in a separate post following the conclusion of the essay.

Lastly, I spent an entire month writing this as a fan who is sympathetic to the villains in general and the MLA in particular. If your response to the very concept of this essay is anything to the tune of, “Who cares what happens to a bunch of disgusting quirk eugenicists?” know that you and I have radically different views on the MLA, and the role of the justice system in general. You are, of course, welcome to read the essay anyway, but, having said my piece about the MLA and their relationship with quirk supremacy elsewhere, I will not be engaging with arguments or gotchas on that subject here.

PART ONE: The Facts at Hand

Before we get too deep into things, let’s lay out the basic facts: how many people are actually involved in the arrest, as well as some comparisons to real-life events to contextualize that number and provide some referents for the issues the arrest raises.

Re-Destro gives the numbers of the Metahuman Liberation Army as 116,516. A lot of people go on to die in Deika, though we’re never given a solid count. The biggest batch we see killed in a single go are the press of sixty or so people Shigaraki decays, then the sixteen-ish Toga drops, though some of those might possibly have had quirks that allowed them to survive. Any number of people certainly died as well simply in the moments we didn’t see, and who even knows how many were caught in the radius of Shigaraki’s last attack.

Further, there may well have been a measure of organization bleed when the MLA became the PLF (though I imagine trying to leave was a very dangerous proposition, giving an additional reason to stick it out on top of the general cult-like mindset the MLA displays); likewise, I find it hard to believe that there wouldn’t have been some deaths at the Gunga Villa, be it from Gigantomachia’s departure, Geten cutting loose, or combatants—be they hero or comrade—overcompensating somewhat in the middle of a chaotic melee.

I suspect it’s overestimating the depletion, but for the purposes of simplicity, let us call it 115,000 remaining members at the time of the raid.[1]

We are told that, in all, 16,929 people were captured at the villa—just about 17,000. 132 escaped in the confusion; this is a fairly negligible number, save for the fact that it includes high-ranking advisors, but not Machia and those of the Front that were with him.

We are further told, and I quote, “Their bases scattered around the country were hit too, and the sympathizers rounded up.” Horikoshi did not provide any solid numbers for this,[2] but if we’re to assume that it is just the rest of the group (more on the logistics of that bit of spycraft later), “the sympathizers” would be 98,000 additional people.

However, 98,000 may be a significant underestimation. It’s based, after all, on a number Re-Destro cites to describe “warriors lying in wait, ready to rise to action.” This begs the question: is Re-Destro quoting the entire membership of the group, or only those who actually are ready to take action? In other words, does his number account for non-combatants? Is he counting young children? I tend to assume the MLA doesn't have a retirement age as such,[3] but if they do, does his number account for the elderly?

How many more people might be “sympathizers” to the PLF insomuch as they are e.g. the six-month-old infant daughter of an MLA couple? What about the ninety-year-old man in the retirement home whose only real act of war these days is tying up the phone line at City Hall to complain about repressive quirk use laws? How about the fired-up fifteen-year-old that was going to get their official code name next month, just in time to join the first wave of attacks? If he’s being literal in his usage of “warrior,” the actual count of the MLA could easily be twice as high as the number he actually gives.

But okay, maybe Re-Destro’s number does include absolutely everyone. Maybe he’s just being rhetorical—maybe, in his mind, even the six-month-old is waiting to rise to action; she’s just going to have to wait a bit longer than the rest, is all. For simplicity’s sake, let’s stick with the numbers we have: a low-end of 17,000, a high-end of 115,000, captured not merely in a single day, but allegedly in the span of a few hours.

I’m sure I don’t need to stress that that is a lot of people. But how many people is it, practically speaking? Is there a precedent? Anything we can look to for guidance on how this kind of thing would go in real life?

Comparative Analogues

The PLF is tricky to categorize for the purposes of real-life comparison, especially compared to how they’re treated in-universe. In some lights, they resemble a protest movement; in others, a terrorist group. Just looking at the way the government reacts to them—and certainly in terms of their combat capabilities—they might as well be an all-out insurrectionist uprising! Below, I’ll examine a handful of historical incidents that cover that spectrum; they will continue to provide useful reference points throughout the rest of this essay.

The March 15 Incident

In the first half of the 20th century, Japan saw a huge uptick in socialist and communist activity, much to the general dismay of the ruling powers. In response, they passed a series of laws commonly referred to as the Peace Preservation Laws, designed to better enable authorities to suppress political dissent and freedom of speech, particularly that of leftists and labor movements.

The Japanese Communist Party was founded in 1922, but outlawed in 1925. This merely drove members underground, however, from which position they pointed supporters towards the numerous other parties with more legally tolerated leftist policies that had cropped up in the wake of the JCP’s dissolution. Following the February 1928 General Election (the first in Japan held with universal male suffrage), those parties supported by the JCP saw enormous gains in representation in Japan’s National Diet. Alarmed, the Prime Minister declared the mass arrest of known communists and suspected communist sympathizers. Accordingly, on March 15, 1,600 people were arrested throughout Japan.

Over the course of twenty years, some 70,000 people would be arrested under the auspices of the Peace Preservation Laws, the majority of them in 1925 through 1936. The laws would eventually be repealed by American occupation forces after WWII, and the JCP allowed to operate openly once again.

The Rice Riots

In 1918, an inflation spiral had driven the price of rice out of control, exacerbating economic insecurity and hardship. Farmers were being paid a pittance of the market value of their crop by rice buyers and government agents, while urban consumers were being charged an exorbitant price for the staple food, as well as a great many other consumer goods, and their own rents. In response, a series of riots ripped across Japan in late July through September. Beginning with peaceful protesting in a small fishing town in Toyama Prefecture, the unrest escalated to involve riots, strikes, looting, even bombing in demonstrations that reached major cities like Tokyo and Osaka. The scope was and remains unprecedented in modern Japanese history, seeing some 25,000 people arrested.

The Sarin Gas Attacks

If you’ve heard of any of them, it’s probably this one. On March 20, 1995, members of the cult Aum Shinrikyo released sarin gas on five different Tokyo Metro trains in the middle of morning rush hour. Thirteen people were killed and over 5500 injured, about a fifth of them moderately to severely so. If not for small errors in the production of the gas and the rudimentary distribution method thereof, loss of life might easily have been catastrophically higher.

Aum Shinrikyo was a doomsday cult, but the motives for that particular attack were much baser than bringing about the Apocalypse: at the time, the organization was under police investigation for its involvement in the kidnapping of a public official. Its leader, Asahara Shoukou, hoped that the attack would divert police’s attention from a planned raid.

It did not do so; police executed raids on numerous of the cult’s compounds, arresting many of its senior members both immediately and over the course of the following months as the investigation unfolded. In all, over 200 members were arrested of an organization that counted its membership prior to the attack as numbering 11,000 people in Japan.[4]

The February 26 Incident

There have been a significant number of uprisings and violent protests in Japan’s modern history; when looking for a representative example, I focused my attention on the military coups of the 1930s and 40s, largely because they took place in what was closest to the modern Japanese legal context.[5] Of that subset, I chose the February 26 Incident for the severity of the government response. The others disintegrated before they could be properly carried out or were met with sympathy for the dissidents despite the obvious illegality of their actions. The February 26 Incident, however, was when they finally became too troublesome to dismiss, and the Emperor himself ran out of patience.

In this period, the Japanese military had become drastically factionalized into two main groups—an ultra-nationalist group, largely powered by a group of young officers, which supported the Emperor and wanted to purge Japan of Western influences, and a more moderate group mainly defined by their opposition to the above faction.[6] Occurring in 1936, the February 26 Incident involved the young officers, believing that they had tacit approval from higher-ranked officers of their own faction, launching assassination attempts against the nationalists’ most prominent enemies in the government (six assorted Ministers and former Ministers in the Emperor’s Privy Council and the Diet) and a bid to seize control of the administrative center of the capital and the Imperial Palace, after which they planned to demand the dismissal of more officers and the selection of a new Cabinet.

The seven ringleaders had convinced eighteen other officers to lend their forces to the attempted coup, a total of around 1,500 men, calling themselves the Righteous Army. Several of their assassination attempts failed, however, and while they succeeded at taking the Prime Minister’s residence and the Ministry of War, they did not manage to secure the Palace. The outraged Cabinet demanded the Emperor take a hard line with the rebels, and by the 29th, the Righteous Army was surrounded by 20,000 government troops and 22 tanks. In this hopeless situation, the officers dismissed their troops; two committed suicide (a third attempted it unsuccessfully) and the remainder were arrested by military police.

International Examples

For obvious reasons, I prefer to limit my examples to events that happened in Japan. However, I will also be briefly referring to a few international incidents of mass arrest, taking place in India, the U.S., and Egypt, respectively.

In the following parts, I'll use these facts and comparative analogues to take a closer look at what readers were told became of the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Part Two

-----------------------------------------------------

Footnotes (Part One)—

[1] Over three months’ time, they likely gained some new blood also, simply in the course of their usual recruitment tactics. You don’t get an underground organization that size by sitting back and waiting for people to come to you, after all. I don’t know a practical way to calculate that, though, so just bear it in mind for when I talk about new members later.

[2] Possibly because he was aware that 17,000 people captured in one fell swoop was difficult enough to swallow without adding on more than five times that number.

[3] We do, after all, see some very aged people fighting in the streets of Deika.

[4] They were considerably more international than you may have heard. They had 50,000 members at the time, some 30,000 of them based in Russia.

[5] The Meiji Constitution was ratified in 1889; universal suffrage (for men) was granted in 1925. The modern constitution was enacted in 1947.

[6] More moderate, mind, in the context of the Imperial Japanese military. Neither of these factions had any time whatsoever for leftist movements, hence all those suppressive crackdowns.